Her

There is something to be said

For the way anger feels

As it makes the blood course faster

Through her veins.

 

She wants to know why,

Why they had to pick her.

Can’t they tell?

She seethes at the idea that they do not.

 

Couldn’t they have chosen

Some random, useless girl

Instead of her?

Precious, precious her.

 

When she finds out who they are,

After all, they were so careless,

They don’t stand a chance

Not a chance in hell, of surviving.

 

She takes what has been taken.

She does so gleefully,

Ripping and tearing and grinning

And letting out all that anger.

 Blair Abney

Originally appeared in the 2013-2014 edition of Outside In