Searing Silence

I wish I could take my anger out of my body,
Crumple it up,
And throw it into the fire it was born in.
I wish I could detach it from myself,
And hide it somewhere foreign.
Somewhere I only dream of finding.
Perhaps a kind word,
From a mother,
Or father.
Perhaps I could nestle it between sweet advice,
Unspoken.
Maybe there I could never see it again.
Never again.
For now,
I trap it in my throat.
I forcefully swallow it down,
Like bile.
My anger tastes of vomit.
Its acidity gnaws at my throat,
Until it is too raw for me to speak.
But I like it better that way.