How do you quit something you don't know how you started?

What do you do when you've ripped out the bad habits like pages

And you're left with a cover of your long brown hair

And low self esteem

Because you didn't leave anything you loved about yourself.

Someone once tried to convince me that my anger was not hereditary,

But I refuse to believe the the burning feeling in my chest when I get upset

Is something I picked up.

I remind myself that I am bigger than the satisfaction

of letting my fist catch hold of the closest thing in the vicinity.

Letting my words spill feels like leaving the faucet on,

As if I am drowning in my endless euphemisms waiting for someone to say something

As if I haven't been screaming under my breathe because, we all know

You’re only as loud as the words you share