Beauty In Me

I don’t like being angry, I hate feeling this way;

I despise that I don’t know the right things to say.

I know nothing’s wrong, and I’m sure it’s all right,

But I can’t help but feel like I’m losing a fight.

I’m about to pull out the stops, I’m about to play dirty

Because I’m facing my anger and I’m about to get flirty.

I don’t want to do all the things that I might;

I’m trying for self-control, but my grip isn’t that tight.

I don’t like my face so I’m closing each eye;

I may be punching blind, but I’ll get it first try.

I want someone to get hurt, I want someone to bleed,

And it’s not so much a want as something I need.

I hate that this anger is under my heart;

I’ll tell you it’s not there, but it’s ripping me apart.

I don’t like telling secrets, I don’t like being known,

But I spilled out a whisper and I’m scared how it’s grown.

I think I’m so angry because I know it hurts less;

If I draw curtains closed then you can’t see my mess.

But the fury, it scares me, I don’t like how I feel.

I keep saying it’s a joke, but what if it’s real?

What if it’s something that won’t go away?

What if it’s something that grows in me each day?

And this is the point where it turns out I need you.

I need someone who’s there when I don’t know what to do.

I need you to tell me because I can’t see what you see;

Please will you tell me if there’s still beauty in me?

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