When Rage Consumes Me

When rage consumes me,
I am all limbs, all angles.
I am a pair of boxing gloves,
and I punch and punch and punch.

When rage consumes me,
I am sharp words.
I am the bitch that stole your boyfriend.
I am the driver who crashed into your car.
I am right, and you are wrong,
I am a smirk and you are a bloody lip.

When rage consumes me,
I am a bouncy ball in a child's hand.
The bull in a china shop.
A hurricane for the town with old buildings.
I am an uncontrollable curse,
an unmovable object,
an unstoppable force.

When rage consumes me,
I am the fire alarm, and the girl who pulled it.
I am here and loud and mean trouble.
I am the crime,
the punishment, the punisher, and the punished.

When rage consumes me,
I am the barbarian. 
I am the girl with an invisible axe.
I am the villian in a war against god.

But when rage leaves me,
I am the child lost in Costco,
afraid and sad and abandoned.
I am a waterfall of tears,
a hand that needs to be held,
a crumbling statue.

When rage leaves me, 
I am a thousand papercuts.
I am a drugstore sold out of bandaids.
I am the lump in my throat
the tears on my cheek,
and the apology on the tip of my tongue.

When rage leaves me,
I am young. 
I am here.
I am sorry.