Wrongfully Right Anger Poem by Vanessa Kingsley

What I thought was cold is searing, blinding heat. My anger boils through me like a wave that’s reached its peak. I thought that it would go away and yet it still grows strong. It feeds and breathes off the knowing truth that I am always wrong. I AM ALWAYS WRONG! It bites; the bitter truth. It sings and will dance behind my lips, and will dance on me and now I just feel sick. That all I hoped was real is only stupid fiction. So there is only one solution that fills me with hope yet. The beautifully delicious scent of a curing death. I will ride on his chariot as he takes me away. And then and only then will I feel no pain.