White

Bind my wrists behind my back

So I can’t see the blood

Trickle down my finger tips.

I’m angry.

Shaking.

Fighting against the darkness

As she stirs in my belly.

It’s frightening.

To think so much anger can be inside me.

Fueling rage

So hot, so destructive,

It is a pale white against my already pale skin.

It is the blood that flows down my wrist.

Hot.

Even though there is no cut.

There is no relief

From the heat inside my body,

Because my blood is in my veins.

Each pulse

A vivid reminder that this pain,

It is my anger,

And the hole it fills is now my song.

I’ve been screaming inside.

Trapped by my own lips.

By my own thoughts:

It’s nothing.

Let it go.

Move on.

Get over it.

It’s so hot...

I feel cold.