When you’re angry with me

I don’t take rejection very well It’s like when I lose my temper Nothing matters Cold like December I freeze over My idle hands empty as my mind becomes. Heavy and graceless And the tears won’t run It seems redundant. So the sun goes down on a frown, maybe the longest running. And whatever angry energy remains at 3 in the morning turns to sadness and full blown depression by five And rather than be in my feelings I’m scarcely alive having shut down and retreated as far as I can to hide away from my own heart

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