Teen Poetry Collections


by a young man, age 17

When I think about anger, I think about being in jail.
My anger is like a gun, ready to pop off at any moment.
My anger sounds like tires screeching on the road,
because the anger is driving the car.
My anger looks like blue rage, blue fire.
My anger smells like gunpowder, after the gun has been fired.
My anger feels like being in a coma.
I don’t know what I’m doing.
I can’t feel anything.