Mad at the Universe

Have you ever screamed at heaven,

At the universe, at God, at fate—

Over something you did,

Something you can’t make sense of,

A story you never wanted written?

You swear it’s not who you are,

Not who you’ve ever been,

But you’re stuck feeling angry,

Hurt to the bone,

And worst of all—

You can’t stay angry,

Because the hands that caused it

Were your own.

Now it follows you like a shadow,

Even when the sun hits just right

And it feels gone.

You still know it’s there.

So I go back

To ink and paper,

Where my voice is clearer

Than my tongue could ever be.

⸻

Woke up with a weight on my chest,

Thinking ‘bout how I fucked up,

Blaming every star in the sky.

Side-eye at the rain,

Cursing traffic lights,

Acting like the planets

Put this on my name.

But when the room goes quiet,

The finger I’m pointing outward

Turns straight back at me.

⸻

I’m mad at the world,

Mad at the universe,

Mad at the mirror ’cause it makes it worse.

But I won’t lie,

I know the truth—

I see.

I’m mad at everything,

But more mad at me.

Mad at the world,

But underneath it all I bleed—

Hurt, bruised, quietly aching.

I crossed a line I swore I’d never touch,

And underneath the anger

I’m just disappointed.

Yeah…

I’m just disappointed in me.

⸻

Replay in my head like a bad rerun—

Why didn’t I think?

Why didn’t I pause?

Cry myself to sleep

Then drag the sadness into daylight.

And when they ask me “Why?”

My silence answers first—

‘Cause I don’t know.

I still don’t know.

Why?

Why?

Pointing up

Pointing out

Pointing everywhere except inward—

At timing, signs, the night—

Like the sky ever cared.

But it’s my hands shaking,

My own heart breaking.

My line crossed,

A cost I can’t outrun.

So let it sting,

Let it cut,

Let it clean.

The only way out

Is through what I did

And living with it.

⸻

Mad at fate,

Mad at faith,

Mad at God for not stopping me.

But truth is,

I carved this chapter myself—

No storm to blame but the one I brewed.

⸻

I’m mad at the world,

Mad at the universe,

Mad at the mirror ’cause it makes it worse.

But the deeper I dig,

The clearer I see—

I’m mad at everything,

But more mad at me.

Mad at the story

Written in ink I chose.

Mad at the person

I never thought I’d be.

And behind all the rage

Is disappointment,

Breaking softly beneath.

⸻

I wanna blame the sky,

Blame the stars,

Blame the clock striking dark.

But every road I walk

Leads straight back to my heart.

Talking to the mirror

Like it’s some kind of judge,

But the voice inside whispers—

“You can’t outrun this stuff.”

So I breathe,

I break,

I say my own name,

And pray I move differently

When morning comes again.

⸻

Mad at the universe—

But really,

It’s me.

Mad at the world,

Mad at fate,

Mad at what I did myself create.

But I’m learning—

Slowly owning

What I did

And who I’ll become next.

Not mad at God.

Not anymore.

Just disappointed in me.

And trying—

Trying—to turn that into change.