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the first sign of toxic masculinity I found

in myself was this unbridled anger that

flooded my veins as I shouted away at

family and friends alike, people whom

I viewed as weaker or inferior.

from infancy, its the kind of behavior

that I've seen being respected as a

kind of perk that comes with being

"the man of the house".

I saw my father do it, grandfather

not so much, and I saw how a man

when he screams and shouts or

issues threats and orders in a cold

voice he expects everyone to obey him.

I saw my father's anger being lashed out

and thought if someday I could do that

I'd be just as feared and people might

actually take my words to heart.

by the time I hit puberty, this behavior

had already taken root in my soul

and like an open, septic wound it

festered, and rotted away my insides

moulding me into an instrument of

physical violence and raging hormones.

be it at school or at home or anywhere

else, I picked up a fight with bigger boys

or just liked to beat up people for fun.

my father wasn't at home most of the time

and I abused my family with words and

trying to hold down on their necks until

someone pulled me away from them.

its been over a decade since I lost

control of myself in anger or laid hands

on anyone, but my words have become

sharper and hurt people far more than

any weapon in existence.

I want to give up the remaining fragments

of this part of who I was and make amends.

this rage may be an eternal part of me

and somewhere down the line before

I truly hurt someone else irrevocably

I need to burn it all up along with myself.