Anger is scarlet blood red.
It sounds like the chitter-chatter of gossiping-girls after a furious fight.
It tastes like the salty sad tears running down your face into your dry mouth.
It smells like another girl's strong perfume on your boyfriend's shirt.
Anger feels like a migraine b e a t i n g like a drum in your HURTING HEAD.
Anger is green with envy.
It sounds like the mourning of a collapsed childhood.
It tastes like blood beaten out of the mangled, messy, mask she wears.
It smells like the smoke of a BLACK car that flies away forcefully without thought.
Anger feels like wasted time for someone whom no longer remembers the wrath he once gave.
Anger is withering away white.
It sounds like the cries of a merciful mother.
It tastes like the ice cream that was once perfectly presented in a prestige cone.
It smells like the cold, snow fallen air, that so FRESHLY suffocates forcibly.
Anger feels like strength.