Next time,
I think I’ll disobey
your expectations.
I won’t monitor myself.
I won’t seethe in toilet cubicles
then exit with smiles.
I won’t scream into pillows
in agreeable suffocation.
I won’t laugh
when I mean to growl.
Next time,
I will explode
in supermarket aisles
leaving terrified boys
in my wake.
I will upturn tables,
witness words slip from my mouth
like grenades,
have you searching WebMD
for a diagnosis of
my symptoms.
Unpredictable.
Unmanageable.
It could be ugly.
It could be ravishing.
Either way, you’ll probably
feel uneasy.
Don’t worry,
this will pass.
It’s just a temporary
side-effect to beholding
my beautiful rage.
Comments