In "This anger," the speaker describes rage as a fire that lives inside them. It spreads through their veins, pulls them off course, and hurts them again and again. What stands out is the speaker's honesty: they admit "I let it" and call that "my mistake." They even feed the flames, knowing the pain won't change.
The mood is lonely and heavy. The speaker cries by their bed while everyone else sleeps, which makes the suffering feel private and unseen. The poem suggests that others only understand this kind of pain if they get close enough to feel the heat themselves. The last line brings it back to the speaker, who is the one left scorched at the end of the day. Rather than blaming anyone else, the poem sits in the uncomfortable truth that anger can hurt the person carrying it most. It reads as raw, tired, and self-aware.