Dear Anger,
There is a man who lives in my home.
From sunrise to sunset, he pounds at my door. Drowning me in his hate.
I gasp for air.
The man shoves me down, further into a black ocean.
Dear Anger,
The man won\'t leave.
Why won\'t he leave?
Is it because you live inside of him?
When the man talks, you come out.
A quick dash. Like running. Like hiding.
Dear Anger,
My hallway is a perpetual, terrifying corridor.
I am always running through it.
Jumping into doors. Looking for an escape. Time is always against me.
His arrival. My defeat.
Forcibly he makes me take on his pain. Blaming me for his nameless, shapeless state.
Dear Anger,
There is a man who lives in my home.
That man is my father.
He is always you. Why is he always you?
I beg you—release him soon.