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Poetry

the later parts are a lot better than the first ones in my opinion poems and random stuff i want to put on here

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by paperclipeater

by paperclipeater

Anger flows through my veins. It runs in my bloodline.

I didn't start it. I don't know who did.

I watch him grin at crime, shoot projectiles to the field.

I'm not cautious of his fists, but of the audacity he may yield.

I watch his blood boil, his eyes filled with rage.

I am stronger, so why am I afraid?

I turn my head upwards, and my eyes meet a threat.

I see the walls of my new room, adorned with previous dents.

My new lamp is still on, a reminder of when she decided to go.

When she pushed out the screen, bare feet landing on snow.

It didn't start with me, but I wont end it either.

It's too late for that, and I am no dreamer.

I see my reflection, but it's not my own face.

I see my own anger. I'm not ashamed. I am afraid.