Tugging Tears

Sometimes kindness is masking self hate.
Or, I suppose, sometimes unwarranted misery is a result of kindness, or a person who rarely finds anger but tugs tears from a desert. I become sad when I should be angry. Or sad when I'm done being nice.

April.

I want to strangle myself
want to dangle myself
want to pinch myself
want to drench myself

In something that sparks more than this fog
in something that remarks more than this smog
of a muddled feeling that sits in dread
of whispers of sadness of looks unsaid

I wish not to die but to live out this gloom
I wish not to purge but to swallow a spoon

of goodness found
of a feeling that's real
of poignancy undeniable
of a firm and truthful spiel