anger ii :: prev :: next :: yeah, okay, so i'm angry and why shouldn't i be after all i keep trying to pull the knife from out of my back but everytime i reach back to feel around for why i still hurt so bad it's still there or maybe it's a fresh one... angry? hell, yeah and what's wrong with that when the two people who meant the most to me took everything i am and ridiculed it and stripped me naked and paraded me through the streets hands tied behind my back and held court and called themselves as witnesses and sat at the judges bench and convicted me, guilty as charged and worthy of a slow, tortuous demise who wouldn't be angry upset? naw, you're jokin', right? i mean, i only gave you two all of the ammunition that i ever dare give anyone for safe keeping for protection and what did you do but load up the weapons and let me have it both barrels now i'm a bloody mess full of holes unlikely to ever trust again angry? you're surprised? i'm screamin', cussin', baseball-bat swinging golf ball driving through a plate glass window fist through the sheetrock tired of being the whipping post no longer a door mat abuser becomes the victim pull my finger from the dyke let the thunder roll, sugar and the chips fall where they may angry you expected something else? (will the real jc please stand up) © 2001 (2 february) john r. chase
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