Anger.

A misunderstood anger, engulfed her.

It grabbed her voice and flung it at those closest to her.

It clenched her fists and stamped her foot.

It took her mind and banished good.

It became her.

At that instant it felt more real than she did.

She couldn't begin to understand it.

She had tried to, before, and had met with the same sadness, fear and confusion.

The anger was the voice of the trio of misery.

They could only chorus in anger.

They breached and crashed

They had flailed futilely against the walls she had built in offense.

Trying her best not to be wounded again.

The anger became her, it did not become her.

I see her now.

She is losing the battle, hiding behind the facade of living

All she feels is anger not the true emotions.

Where to from here.

Is there a way?

Should she find it?

Can she?