shield/knife

anger is my shield
my own reliant thing
because if i don't want to feel something
then let's get fucking angry
a wicked bit of righteousness flows through me
and i bear my teeth at the image i place in the mirror
my heart pumps and i feel something but also glorious nothing
i delight in my vain wrath, striving for my ego, my strength
but in the end, i know it is not a shield
but a knife between my ribs