The Anger

Seething. The kind of anger that twists your stomach in a low, dark heat. Like the cinders at the end of a campfire, you can feel them burning the weak charred wood. You can hear the coals crackling from need for the imperceptible flame to feed and continue.

I don't have the guts to look at you while you sit there. I am consciously willing to control myself from dangerous impulses. Almost a pure loathing in it's most base definition.

The lying and contorted stories you use, they make me really understand. They make me see with unclouded vision what you really think. What you expect me to be.

You can't be satisfied with who I am. You just can see how you damage me with your judgments  You want to take all that I use, to be myself and replace with your ideal of perfection.

Don't worry, I am learning from the best, I watch and learn. I creep around in your mind while you sleep and try my best to learn to outsmart you. I have learned to survive in your world from you. I have learned the tools to survive and it maybe just come down to a duel between our two minds. And I feel I have nothing to lose.