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Fury

by Melissa Ingoldsby 4 months ago in slam poetry · updated 4 months ago
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Poem about weights

Fury
Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy on Unsplash

A poem about being a human being

****

Worn down so

thin,

I’m feeling thin.

I’m starving inside while I’m

Completely full.

Did you see that look?

Did you see that frown? That Scowl? (What gall she has!!!)

She was made to be happy, I know it, I know it. (Cries in private, lonely two minute intervals, wiping eyes furiously to hide the wet marks)

She needs to stand up tall, needs to never fall, make a mistake, create another hundred failures and don’t fall.

She’s been knocked down over and over, and her thinning story goes down, down down. Not in a drain, but in a stopped up pipe, getting more and more backed up.

Failures are unacceptable, not now, or before, don’t you ever forget that you can’t do anything right, nothing, nothing at all.

She’s drenched in failure, thin and raw and full of fury.

Split in pieces, plots overlapping, she’s never dreaming anymore, she’s not allowed to. Not in secret.

Not in private.

Her voice has been completely destroyed, silenced and treated like a hurricane—-

As though finally breaking through the barrier will finally let her be

Let her be.

Failure is a part of her atoms and with everything she does, it isn’t right,

It

Is

So

Wrong.

And the fury she feels inside is wrong.

How can she exist when she lends her voice to everyone else?

When everyone tells her to take care of herself when she’s

Nodding and agreeing.

No one likes you, but they love you.

Everyone tells me to get help

And take care of myself,

I swallow my heart, I swallow my heart

I’m physically okay, but I feel like I’m

Drowning in this “I’m okay,”

And the woman that swallowed her fury

Also swallows her heart

Existing solely for others, happy to do so.

But she eats her fears and tumbles her fury downward, down down down.

She hears voices calling for her every single moment of every single day and night, too, but no one calls for her to

Just be.

When you are a human being

You cannot just “be”

You have to do.

Nothing is good enough

She’s not good enough

I’m thin, thinning, so

Thin that I do not really exist.

I lost track of that timer, the timer of my life.

There are no victims, only survivors and

Dreamers.

I’m neither, none of those,

I’m just a human being

With weights that stretch me out and pull me in.

I’m not sure if I’ll get to show you just how much I feel, the story of my life

Grappling with not being able to really show my strength

Or fearlessness.

The fury that makes some rise up and become a real leader.

The fury I eat, I swallow, I destroy.

Did you see that?

She rolled her eyes. She rested a moment too long and found a second to unload the pain she carries All the time.

No, no she didn’t.

(It was a very big smile, I know when my

Daughter/sister/friend/acquaintance/neighbor/co-worker/ex/mother:

Is really nice and happy.)

She just told you

She’s unhappy

But,

“I gotta go and catch up on my own stuff.”

And the fury rises, but only for

An instant, to collect in a reduced dose of

Black Death,

Spilled and thin and spoiled,(pulsing and aching near her larynx)

Because she’s spoiled, she got everything she needs, paid for too—-

So don’t you

DARE

Let that fury come up, don’t you DARE

Let that sadness come up,

Don’t you fucking

Dare

Give me that

Sassy, stupid, ignorant, dumbshit

Angry teenager-like Look.

Be happy, thank your lucky stars, he tells her,

You’re okay, and your masked fury is just a symptom

Of rebellion and sin.

To be human is to know of our existence as sin,

To always reform and repent,

To cast off the weights of our mortality

And become one with the Light,

But when someone

Pulls you away, everyday, every moment

Deeper into darkness

How can you possibly survive?

Take responsibility, be respectful and smile, is what they will say.

But I’m too thin,

I’m starving but full,

I’m drained and bursting —

Weights I created from my hubris,

Weights I think I’ll have to add more to,

Because I’m a human being,

And that’s how I’ll get stronger

And truly move into that light.

slam poetry

About the author

Melissa Ingoldsby

I write short stories and poetry. I hope you find yourself in between the spaces of my words.

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