Anger

The same anger that lingered over her lips as she spoke,

is the same anger that bubbles in my throat and chest

as I listen to her speak about issues I’ve felt

my entire life.

I have been called

Crazy

Bitchy

Hysterical

Psycho

All when someone faced my anger.

I struggle to tame my tongue

I have cried with deep frustration

when a boy bullied me in class

while my teacher did nothing

or when I felt my voice

being bulldozed over

by my father’s sermons on life.

I’ve seen the “cunts” of politics

who do look ugly and shrill

in the videos, memes, and posts

after being called a bitch and laughed at

by their male colleagues.

But that anger she felt

I’ve felt too deeply to express in words

it boils, stews, and tingles

every inch of my body

until I feel like bursting

at the seams of the dress

I’m told I must fit into.

I write because I’m angry

and screaming, beating, and murdering

are socially unacceptable

unless you’re protecting your woman

Why am I not allowed to say no?

And when I do, you don’t listen to me anyhow

and my despair at that

makes me even angier

so I try not to think about it

and even as I’m writing this

the anger is climbing further

and further into my throat

so if it’s not clear

as to why I’m so fucking angry

then why don’t you

just explain to me

as to why I am

so goddamn angry?