some days i know for sure when i am angry.

muscles clench from strained hands

and my patience wears to a thin sheet of ice

my heart pounds with a driving force

so strong i fear it will beat out of my chest

but some days

i do not know

i took the time last night to whisper

“i am not first” into the breath of night

until my mouth was numbed by sleep

and my brain was dumbed by words

i took the liberty of

staring at a nearby tree

its green leaves blurring into a taunting mock

at my silent overreactions

because sometimes

self care is a visitor

knocking on my door with an iron fist

i told myself i must evade thoughtless whispers

and stroking my face with cold hands

i took away from it all

the empty slight feeling of


trying to create something

that did not want to be brought into fruition

hopefully someday i can take into consideration

the amount of worth i really need



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