Angry
It makes me so angry
to be me sometimes.
To not be understood
and be constantly criticized
or judged so harsh.
It tears me apart
when no one cares to hear.
So I don't speak anymore
and let no one get near.
A cobweb of complexity
and anger and hate
weaves its maze in my mind,
but I put on a facade
so that nobody asks me why.
The truth is that I do not care!
I no longer have love,
I no longer have hate.
Once again my mind
and my body go numb,
and I don't get
what I won't take.
June 2000
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