Anger, roiling, boiling to the surface.
Within an instant I am anew.
This darker side of me shows its face.
Only in moments of pure anger.
Only when I let my carefully crafted guard down.

It’s in my blood; seething and seeping.
A genetic trait, a genetic gift.
Unfortunately one I can’t return.
But I know, I know it’s there lurking.
Just under my skin. Waiting.

But you. You are the only one who has
Seen my other face, or the only one
I have let see my other face.
Maybe it’s just that I am so comfortable
With you that I can let you see it.

And it takes so very, very little to set me off.
So much less than ever before.
You think I am a different person?
Two seperate halves or even wholes?
This is all of my girl. All of me.

I have a dark side. I have a hidden side.
There’s a part of me that hardly sees the sun.
Is that good?Is repression a needed thing?
Or in the long run will it ruin me?
Will it kill and whither a part of me?