Its called Anger Focus
Im Angry/
It may not sound like im angry/
But I am/
Angry because im angry/
Im angry and when im angry/
I yell, yelling at the angry in Im/
Im angry, angry with the voice/
Voicing my angry Im angry/
Just the anger in the pen/
The pen is angry at me/
Im angry , angry at the sobs/
Sobbing for the wrong/
You don’t know me/
The me in the I know/
I am angry, angry, angry at my shadow/
Shadowing my angry with me, me can’t be angry/
And when im angry with speak, speaking with the speak makes the speaker
angry with me/
My actions , actions getting the best of me, the fragile testily,
the ultimate destiny /
Getting the best of me give me the free/
So angry at the mean, mean meaning sad sadness what?/
Im angry at history , but if you fracture history angry will see
that he is the part of the story but his story ain’t got nothing to do with her story , so both stories are numb for
the silent what?/
At the spray, spraying, sprayed anger’s reflection the strange
imperfection, getting perfect with its situation yeah it’s the confusion, hmmm fusion is real good, getting the real
me, ME/
I quite don’t understand, the meaning of understand is under
my stand don’t even stand me ,so it shouldn’t be a understanding/
IM angry, angry so angry at sorry, souring for the gnashing of teeth
in me can be angry/
The music, musical is hurting the time, timing my moments, non moments
come quick, quickening my emotion, emotional can be quick if you stop, stopping at my focal point, pointing at me/
At me can tell you to tell the writer, writing my dreams, dreamers,
dreaming, dreamed? That im angry/
And im angry at him, him is angry with the at the at can be angry
with angry/
Im angry at the mirror the mirror is speaking, speak mirror tell
me your reflection let me hear you, hearing your voice makes me panic-stricken the cool, cooling words of the wind that shape,
shaping itself on ground, grounding is hard, hardening the hands to work, working for the silent in the hands/
Im the angry wind, winding the angry, angry im angry, angry because
anger is the child that’s inside of me, the child in the wind, and im that child , chilling in the chill, chill word,
worded child/
And when im angry I start to drink to much, drink to much leads to
swears, swearing at the shadow I call mother…….but im motherless so who am I swearing at? Coarse language at my
angry/
The smoke smoking my breath, breathing my fears in/ inside of my
inner scenery………..angry has no identity, identify me in the angry voice can you find me? Im angry because
my bullets don’t have names but my gun wants me to identify them ….they have no name but they fly, flying in the
lifeless scenery ….Im angry, angry at the anger sign on my head, heading in the wrong move, moving it to anger’s
place, placing the born in loud music there/this reader don’t understand that its called anger focus/
