Explosion
Glass breaks against the wall.
Shattered and scattered.
I scream and it ricochets in my ears.
My nails dig into my palms;
I reach up and tug on my hair.
Shoving away the responsibilities
causing this in the first place.
I hurt,
no one gets it.
I’m a crybaby,
I’m dramatic,
I’m a mess.
My hair is knotted and my cheeks are tear stained;
my shirt is ripped and I don’t know how it happened.
I see red.
What is wrong with me?
It must be something
because why else would I feel like this?
But they aren't allowed to judge me,
though I’m a hypocrite and discreetly judge myself,
if they judge me I want to hit something.
Not them
but they shouldn’t test me.
I’m stuck in a small box
smothered and flaming
and I break out,
thrashing against the charred cardboard.
“Everyone go away!”
I want to scream
but I can’t because it’s not in my inside voice.
My throat is sore and no more sound comes out
which makes it worse.
I want to let it out
or else I'll bottle it up inside
until my ears turn red and smoke emits from them.
Without an outlet
I’ll explode.