Clawing to Escape

11 3 3

  Anger. Blazing. Searing.
   Forceful, violent, boiling anger fights its way through my ribcage desperate to escape into the humid air around me.
  I hold my breath.
Maybe if I hold in my breath then the anger will not escape from me. Maybe I can gain control if I just hold her in...
    Or maybe not.
   Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm forcing the screaming anger to boil brighter inside of myself as my lungs join the frothing force of fury clamped inside my ribcage in screams of agony. My breath and my rage intertwine, pleading for freedom.
    The forces inside me are screaming, shrieking, storming to escape, yet I hold my breath.
   They will not escape tonight.
Desperately, the ripping anger claws. She is shrieking escape before it's too late.  My breath runs short.
   Yet I hold my breath.
She wants out. My rage desires freedom. She needs to escape. She needs to scream and rampage and destroy and reek havoc freely.
She needs to BURN.
     The anger inside me screams to blaze wildly into the steamy night that has ensnared me.
   Yet I hold my breath.
I will not allow my anger to rampage, wild, untamed, merciless; for how can I allow such a force from within to live so freely, so chaotically, if I, myself, can not escape. Why should my anger be released if I am still trapped by the world around me, ensnared by my own desires, prisoner to the people I once took great pride in calling my friends? How can my raging anger escape if I cannot join it in wild freedom?
    I will not allow my anger to escape without me. Rage is all I have left. I will not lose. My fury will not escape me tonight.
    I am trapped. I am prisoner. I am fury herself. I am my anger. I am my rage. I am chaos.
     I am chaos the moment before her breath is released. I am the calm before the storm. I am a wild breath clawing to escape. I am rage.

~ The End ~

Clawing to Escape Where stories live. Discover now