punching bag

It might be a strange desire
to one day get so angry
that I punch something stronger than I,
until my knuckles split
and my feelings leave me
in the form of blood.
It might be strange,
but what a better feeling that must be
than to feel your heart sung,
followed by the silent tears,
and a loss of self worth.
I long for anger,
I long to loathe someone besides myself.
But hose who can hurt me I must love,
and those I love I will never blame.