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Writer's pictureErin

smoke and rage

Rage so fierce, it threatens to consume,

The very essence of my being. 

My skin pricks and my breath hitches.

The suns come up before I could let go of the feeling swirling around me.

I’ve played with fire so many times it’s burnt

the tips of my fingers.

Smoke fills the room the same way the rays from the window do.

Is everyone right?

That I should just bite my tongue and push away the devil whispering to me?

Heaven help me, the whiskey may be the only

help I can consume.

The only thing less painful than the frenzy of emotions overwhelming me.


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