it stokes my anger into the evening hours. The stars keep my course straight, though they offer me no guidance, no answers—nothing I can understand, at least. I walk and walk and walk, and inside I steam and fume and burn. Anger is good. Anger fuels me. Anger keeps up my pace, one foot in front of the other, even after the sun sets and darkness consumes the world. Anger propels me forward when I trip over stones or dips in the dead earth. Anger keeps the sorrow and the fear at bay. Anger is my shield, and my crutch, keeping me warm when the temperature drops and the stars climb across the sky,
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