"Rage"

Rage. Rage. Rage.

 Seethe. Seethe. Seethe.

 Cry. Cry. Cry.

 I cannot breathe when I rage, 

a weird molten feeling fills my hollow bones,

 my hollow heart decaying with holes, 

every open or closed blood vessel,

 my eye sockets, the holes of my ears, my empty soul, my dirty lungs, my burning nerves. 

I can just not not breathe breathe.

 I can just look around, 

I can just become inaudible.

 I rage, and I want to scream.

 I rage and I want to break.

 But I'm afraid, I'm afraid.

 I am so afraid of that someone I rage because of,

 the fear is a choking feeling which makes me feel revolted 

and makes me want to empty my guts and my bug-stained decaying self,

 makes me want to slap myself.

 I rage because of this fear,

 inviting the bugs of self destruction to hover

over the decaying matter, 

with holes and holes and loops and dirtiness and disgust. 

But when I rage again because of fear,

 I feel more afraid, what if someone can hear? 

What if someone screams at me, 

what if I cry, 

what if what if what if, I can only want to die.

 I rage rage rage rage.

I rage at myself, I cry at myself, I want to be saved but I rage.

 I don't want to feel this way,

 I'm a kid, please help me,

 let me be a kid and not an angry adult I've seen so much.

 Please. Please please please. 

Give me someone who can soothe this endless bottomless

 eternal never-ending pit of rage rage rage

 with love love love, 

soft soft soft, sweet, melting, 

everlasting love love love.

I beg you.

 Don't make me into an adult, 

don't make me into an anguished, irritated mess.

Please, I am not not not that.

 I'm sweet, I'm kind,

 I want to be loved, 

cared for 

fussed upon

 seen

felt loved 

touched softly and not touched to be hit or threatened 

loved loved loved, more loved and loved. 

But, I only, no I CAN only rage rage rage.