I’m only 10

I’m only 10

And her head rests in my lap

She cries

And I won’t realise until much later

That what glows in my chest

and creeps up my throat

shallowing my infant breaths

Is anger,

The type that numbs you

I don’t  think of her hands

leaving red prints on my face and brother

Because I think I might choke to death on all the words I’ll never say to her

I taught myself I was annoyed, not angry

And definitely not rightfully so,

Much easier to accept I am difficult to please

Than to expect more

From it all