I’m angry because I’m not allowed to be. 

My mom and my brother are the angry ones. 

Bottles and bottles of anger. 

A few tears will turn it to sadness. 

No one was around to help me with anger. 

It catches me when I least expect it. 

I dig my nails into my palms. 

I squeeze my fists right. 

It builds up until I want to scream. 

But I’m not allowed to be angry. 

So I put my head down and cry. 

“Cry baby”

I wish I could obliterate you. 

But I’m not allowed to be angry. 

I’ll lock myself away and scream. 

Unhealthy ways for me to get rid of pure hatred. 

But you’ll never know what they are. 

Because I’m not allowed to be angry.