written by: Mr. Rich Okun
by: Mr. Rich Okun
Anger Anger

I remember,

getting angry,

at the littlest things,

giving power

to whatever I let

pull my strings.

Whether it was people

or situations,

whatever I thought was

causing me aggravations.

I would react

like some marionette

and even more dark attract,

to my shadowed silhouette.

But it was never

any of those circumstances,

nor was it any other person.

It was me all along,

and it would only worsen

when I sang the dreaded

victim song.

The source

of my freedom

and of my discontent,

was knowing,

that no matter what it is,

only I can prevent,

and I must take,

credit and blame,

for everything I name.

For that which I feel and see,

is my experience,

out picturing from me.