The Shell Is Me.

The rage in me does not burn,

It does not smolder,

It is not hot.

The rage in me is contained within a shell.

And there is a wick,

But, I light it not.

For you see,

The shell is me.

And I am afraid.

For there is no one to be angry with,

There is no one to blame.

And I fear that if I light the wick,

I will lose against the pain.

What do you do with anger…..that has no direction?

How do you send it on its way?

There is no one to forgive here.

There is no one to set it straight.

And the thing that’s made me angry.

Cannot be forgotten away.

So I just sit here.

Holding your hand,

Reinforcing the shell.

Hoping the wick will never be lit.