Anger

By Amaya Esparza

the words i 

hold in my 

chest are an

ever-growing

flame, burning

burning, burning,

my insides. 

a flame that

has been there

since i was a

little girl,

wondering why;

why do i have 

to live in such

dysfunction?

a little girl,

wondering why;

why does my

dad have to be

so dysfunctional?

a flame that has

only grown the

more you’ve 

shut me down,

belittled me,

hurt me; then,

growing even

stronger every

time you’ve

apologized,

saying you’ve

changed, you 

won’t do it 

again – just to

act the same

way you’ve

always have.

your actions 

have been the 

starter fluid and 

your words the 

oxygen making 

the flame bigger 

and bigger, until

everything is

surrounded by a 

scorching, scorching, 

scorching heat filling 

up the entirety of my

chest. 

the flame can

no longer be 

contained. 

the words need 

to be released

before i’m turned

to ash from the

inside out, but

the smoke has

entered my lungs,

and now i’m choking,

choking, choking,

all i can do is

slowly be 

burned from 

the flame 

that is my 

ever-present

anger.

By Amaya Esparza