Bottled Up Poem by Fin Metz

My anger,
Bottled up like cola,
About to fizz and burst,
About to unleash what's within.

Hatred that people feel towards me,
It only shakes me up more,
Bubbling and sputtering,
My blood boils even more.

Hiding it away only makes it worse,
Shaking up inside me,
I swear it's about to burst,
And it will all be set free.

I walk home to my parents,
Just to hear them shout,
Complaining about me,
Soon they'll have nothing to complain about.

I walk in the house,
Nobody's home,
I grab a knife from the kitchen,
And I stand there alone.

I hear the doorbell ring,
Then the handle turn,
I can't wait for tomorrow,
The day they'll all mourn.

The door creaks inward,
And with a flick of the knife,
They are left without heads,
Devoid of any life.

The day has come,
For them to die,
As I am no longer,
Capping the bottle inside.