It’s difficult to get angry
When you understand the Anger.
When childhood trauma, missed sleepovers,
New Years tears, crippling anxiety
All make sense.
The more you restrict the more I rebel.
Anger consumes me, and I want to drown
In bubbles, get too close to men.
Break through the thin layer of skin
that separates dreams from reality.
But I know why you do this.
How I wish you were truly Wrong.
Hate is so much easier when it is valid.
A precious culture, tradition, values.
You chose to rip the plant, roots and all,
Out of the sacred soil
And settled into Californian sand
Where you hoped saltwater would nourish me.
The brazen Sun burned
And I became Red.
An auspicious color. An angry color.
Now the basil shall become a poppy.
Rules and restriction
Left me choking on guilt.
Exaggerated personalities
Compensate for Dark’s failure to shine.
I stretch out big brown eyes,
Digging black kajal into their creases.
Drink your blood to tint my lips ruby.
Paint myself yellow with turmeric.
Call it teenage angst or disrespect.
This age is a beautiful one,
For stupidity is expected
And mistakes will be made.
Now if you don’t mind,
I am going to breathe smoky air,
Destroy my delicate body.
And I will learn from it.
And so will you.
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