I know I don’t always help
But when you push me
I lose grip on my anger
I see red and nothing else

Don’t wind up the dynamite
It might blow
I hate putting out the fire
The ashes scald my temper
Makes it flinch when tender

I hate that I do it, give in
But old ways die hard
Expectations to be maintained
I want to change
But somehow I stop me
I hate that most about myself
My ‘personality’ can’t I trade it for another?
But who would want to swap?

I don’t hate you, I love you
But sometimes
I hate the things you say and do

I loathe letting the beast out the cage
But occasionally the padlock gets rusty
I hold my hands up
I’m as much to blame
But my shame keeps me quiet
When there’s words I should say
Like ‘I’m sorry’

When we’re not angry
We’re like the best of friends
Laughing, cackling, howling
But when stress takes hold
Things are said which should never be revealed
But once words are spoken
History owns them
I’m so sorry