The Right of Being Mad

I can’t be mad
Is it because I’m sad?
Is it really that bad?
It need something to add

Everytime I want to blow up
My head covers the cup
Sounds like a pup
That only needs a rub

I don’t have the right to be furious
Never thought it would be this serious
Maybe this is nauseous
But it feels self-righteous

At home? No, my family will hate me
At workplace? My boss will fire me
At park? It is not a right place to be
At my mind? Probably it will kill me

Slowly
Deeply
Continuously
Cruelly

I am crazy
And lazy
And hazy
Never cozy

I keep holding back each time
I feel my rage is crossing the line
And then I run and decline
Every made-up thought that I design

I want to punch them in the face
And every place
But that is not the case
I just need a space

A space where I will be free
From this cancer and malady
I only can cry internally
Where no one can blatantly see

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