The Angry

Her beauty is known throughout the land
All people seek to give her a hand
Her ivory skin, like china, eyes like glass
Most think her strength was never built to last
Yet inside her, a fire burns so strong
It consumes her, and knows not right from wrong
It does not sleep, and as time grows longer
It continues to get hot, and stronger
She does not let it show within her eyes
No matter how high the boiling water will rise
For it is a boiling water that grows closer to the brim
An anger most unholy from within
She cannot tame, or make it go away
She covers it, with her charming way
None can know what we all hide within
Yet soon the water boils over its brim
She smiles, and nothing shows throughout her face
What hides within can only bring disgrace
So fine she sits, while still the water boils
And yet to her smile she remains so loyal
Out bursts from her, no angry words, or violence
She suffers all alone in solemn silence
She does not know of trust, or right or wrong
She only knows that she must remain strong
It's shut up by her corset, and her dress
But on her insides the fire, it does press
The fire runs throughout her veins and heart
She has been like this from the very start
She lives through lies and fire and tears
Silently she hides all feeling, even fear
Her eyelids are always so heavy with its heat
Her only solitude is her lovely sleep
Where she can dream, of when awake
Ruining her enemy’s fate
Though she has diamonds and gold
Though she knows every story told
With all her riches she cannot find
A doctor who can ease her mind
With all her knowledge she does not know
What makes the fire within her grow
So she stays restless and so sad
She lifts, not a finger, for good or for bad
She lives in a world where she pretends
And the one in her mind that Muse sends
She dreams of a place where all is well
And outside puts everyone under her spell
Through a blanket of beauty, charm, and grace
Nobody can see her true and evil face
So she lies and she cheats so that nobody knows
That she finds no happiness in the beauty of a rose
But in its thorns, that can cause pain
And in the coldness of the dark, heavy rain
Because somewhere her enemy stood
And she can imagine his deep red blood
Slipping out of his arms and fingers
In all places where roses linger
And she can imagine the coldness of the rain
When in his eyes, the water it stains
She pretends that she is merely waiting
For the time when all her hating
Will pay off, and she can hurt him
When she can commit her deadly sin
But when that happens, what would she do?
Not having such anger would be quite new
For that’s all she was, had ever been
Fire wrapped up in ivory skin
What would become of her and her life?
She would never bee some wife
Or a mother, she’d be nothing but a mess
She would be nothingness, in a beautiful dress
So the fire within her continues to blaze
And she believes she will never change her ways
For she is no woman, no person at all
She’s made up of fire, and without it she’d fall
So what would be the point of living, if she didn’t feel alive?
Her existence would never strive
Having her anger made her something
A fire in a pretty package of gold things
So she would always stay this way
Be the same angry person, come what may
Some would think that a bleak future was in store
But at least she could charm by the countenance she wore
And if ever the time came for her
She could merely dwell on those that were
And what was, and how life used to be
And that would sustain her existence you see
So as long as she had the past
Her life, her existence, her fire would last
Beauty on the outside, fire within
Just another lie, just another sin
Laugh with indulgence she would
Yet with others around, just smile where she stood
To be what she wants is the easiest thing
Separating her outside from in, to sing
Of hope at church, yet to scorn God inside
Just along for the ride
Of success, in conformity, in pretending
Living in the world Muse continues sending
Her gold silken dress that separates outside from in
Outside, a lamb, inside a devil who sins
But who cares? Not her, and no one else knows
Of the fire within, that burns, and grows
Such a mind for contempt
Loving Muse for what she sent
And still, through each lie, through each grin
The blazing fire burns within
And no matter how hard she tries to make it stop
The boiling water is reaching the top…


Well, I wrote this last year when I was shadowing at Presentation High school, which was really boring. This is not the whole poem. It’s a really long poem. I folded a paper in half, than in half again, so that I had four squares, I always do that because then you have a smaller writing surface and it is easier to keep people from seeing. And I wrote on the first little square, than the second, and the third, and the fourth, and then I had the flip the paper over and wrote on the fifth, the sixth, the seventh, and then the eighth, there is like two and a half little squares of writing left of this poem, but its kind of weird, and I am tired of typing. So like, this poem is extremely weird, and the rhythm is way off, I know, and some stuff is repeated and I refer to her anger as boiling water, and a blazing fire which is very confusing, and it is very long and not a lot happens and so forth, but I want honest comments, so I can fix it. Because I have never edited it before, and I don’t know where to begin. But also review, like the actual writing, not just the like technical stuff, and don’t be too mean!