When I'm Angry

My eyes fill with tears,

My tongue tastes metallic,

My lips won't part;

I can't even scream.

Growing up,

no doors were slammed

I spoke when spoken to

not to be heard, only seen.

My emotions all stuffed in a bottle

My issues in jars on a shelf

but when my pen touches this paper

I found how to express myself.

Poetry's freedom from the noise in my head

I could be crazy, but I'm a poet instead.