True story.

Always lurking deep
There is an anger
Then there is the Other
The one that feeds

She revels in it
Anger and pain
From within and without
From those around us

My Demon is patient
My resolve is silent
I lean on Her in crises
We are impenetrable

Childhood trauma
Stifling Her over the years
She is maturity’s curved blade

Perhaps it’s loneliness
Drastic times
Giving desires a face
Perhaps it’s therapy
Our coping mechanism

Ah, slip of the tongue
I think I’m regressing


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