MY ANGER

My anger rises and swells like the tide,
and I cry in the wake
if I keep it inside.
Lonely, and alone, in a corner;
because then only I know my feelings.
I bend myself out of shape, into a crooked beam,
over the guilt
of the desire
that I had,
to express my anger to you
in rash words,
as raw as the roots of a tree
unearthed, but instead
held prisoner in the ground,
only so I could cry
where you couldn't see me
over your insensitivity.