Recycled Anger
Recycled Anger (10/31/2005)
There’s echoes in my head of the words I never said
Doubt becomes anxiety and then I feel regret
And so I get upset and vent it out as hatred
Anger to the people who didn’t need to take it
Frustration fills the spaces of the holes, no inspiration
I’ll throw it on the fire in a fit of aggravation
Yeah, fuck imagination, I’m sick of motivation
Pains that make me hunger with a violent inclination
So here you go, just take it, and bury all my writings
Rip apart my lungs that breathed out in timing
Enough with all the crying and the aching in my soul
I think the skill is dying so I’m forced to take control
And as it all grows whole and the pieces fit together
Another drop of blood to complete this evil letter
You people think I’m clever, but it’s all one big mistake
The words that I say now will be the ones to bring me pain
As I drive myself insane to gather what I’m feeling
I say something inane to help with what I’m dealing
And soon it hits the ceiling and I wish to take it back
The words I shouldn’t say with the meaning that they lack
But, here again we are, and it’s all come to fruition
The words I shouldn’t say are like vitamins, nutrition
It seems I need the pain to function and keep living
So excuse all of this rage, please continue with your giving
And I’ll go on with my sinning and making stupid choices
To fuck myself right over and then drown it out with noises
As the pens strikes on the paper or my fingers on the keys
Every single letter, recycled pain to be released
Notes: I started this one at work, but didn’t have much time to work on it there. To top it off, Toni saw me writing and it kind of threw me off to have someone see my stuff before it was finished. In a way, though, it made me want to make the piece that much better. As for the rhyme itself, it describes how, sometimes, I feel like I need anger and hate and pain to fully function and participate. When I feel okay, it’s simply a feeling of emptiness and nothingness. The hurt hat most would loathe, seems to drive me and motivate me. Why? Why do I rely on such recycled hatred?
Filed under: Poems