Sabitlenmiş Tweet
Sometimes, when the world seems so unfair and cold again, I write.
Not to sound beautiful, but to release the pressure that builds up inside me.
This poem arose from just such a moment—from anger, from sadness, and from a deep love for a world that could be so much more beautiful. 😢😢😢
**My Silent Anger**
I carry an anger within me,
so quiet that the world doesn't hear it.
It doesn't burn loudly, it glows.
A slow, red fire,
beneath the skin of patience.
I see the powerful
playing wars like dice,
amassing billions,
while children beg for bread and mothers for medicine.
My anger has no fists.
It has tears.
It weeps for those who must pay for what others can afford.
He weeps for justice, which is now just a pretty word.
And yet—deep within this anger, something else dwells. Something soft that refuses to die. A little girl who played in the dirt, who believed in fairy tales, who still hopes that the world could one day be good.
I am angry because I love. I am sad because I see. I am tired because I cannot stop feeling.
But I remain. With my silent, red fire. With my tears that never cease. With my love that, despite everything, breathes on.
And somewhere inside me, a small voice whispers: "One day… those who have nothing will no longer be the only ones who have to give."
Until then, I wear my anger like a warm cloak around my soft heart.
Because as long as I am angry,
it means:
I have not given up yet.
English
