In Your Voice News Student Productions

Anger and Rage

Red Badge Project Student Productions

By Luz Helena Thompson, USMC Veteran

He said to write a story, and I’m a lover of words
So I put on the paper the sounds that I heard
I sat down and thought of all the times you were there The times I was broken and angry and scared
My anger and my rage can cut like a knife
They helped me to put up one hell of a fight
I pushed everyone away and they trapped me inside The feelings and thoughts I tried so hard to hide Bottling it all up until I’d finally explode
Screaming loud enough to know I’ve been heard.

It was a controlled, chaotic thing in my head
The gun had been loaded with all the words that I said I pointed it at everyone, who tried to come near Pulling the trigger, at everything that I feared. Lashing out with words that rolled off my tongue Threw things across a room and then I would run Hiding away, where no one could see
How the anger and rage were tormenting me.

It’s a behavior I learned when I was a kid
Paying attention to everything, that my Father did He’d spit words like fire and I’d always get burned It was his defense mechanism, I later learned Something inside him was hurting so much
And I grew up feeling like I wasn’t enough “You’ll never amount to anything”, is what he said For years those words lived inside my head
I couldn’t help myself and I believed it was true So I did the only thing I knew how to do
I grabbed onto a pen when I was still so small
And recited the words until I knew them all
Made friends with my anger and my quiet rage For a while they stayed, locked inside of the page

But as I grew older and time had had passed
The words kept coming so unbelievably fast
I couldn’t keep up and it swallowed me whole And this was when I began to lose control
The anger and rage said that we were friends But they left me alone again and again
To sit in my sadness and feel all my pain
They laughed and blamed me for all my shame Resentment and bitterness had moved in as well My life started to feel like a living hell.
I was taken hostage by my childhood friends And I begged to the paper to go find the pen
I escaped and ran as far as I could
Committed to do everything I knew that I should Cried out for help, for someone to listen Someone to show me all I’d been missing.

The pen and the paper found me close to my death
I was barely alive about to take my last breath
Shattered and bruised, I didn’t look like myself Begging and crying, “oh please, will you help”?
“Who did this to you”, they asked, again and again
It was the rage and the anger, I thought we were friends. Right at that moment, I started to see

That the paper and pen were all that I’d need
I got to my feet and we all shared a hug
It was then that the words had filled me with love.
They came to my rescue and now they stand guard
For when times get tough and life gets too hard.
The anger and rage that had a hold of my heart
Are now left to dwell in the imagery of my art.
They were a defense mechanism that no longer serve
To answer the call when I need to be heard.
I’m grateful for every word that found its way to the page Redirecting my friends, anger and rage.

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