ヨルシカ - 修羅（OFFICIAL VIDEO）

Dear Sir, Do you remember what we talked about before? I often feel anger. At everyday events, at society, at others, and even at myself. When you hear "anger," you might imagine something like shouting and venting, but I've rarely been able to express it that way—it's not like that. How should I put it? It's just a quiet anger. The kind that stirs quietly deep in the gut. Like a single raindrop falling on a windless lake. That's what it is. It's anger. Perhaps it's what keeps me from feeling normal. It's something even difficult to reveal to my family. Anger is often compared to something like bubbling magma, isn't it? Mine feels a little different. It's a sensation like a cold breeze passing through. A coldness, as if the wind is tracing the edge of a gaping hole. That's the kind of anger it is. When I was little, I read the word "shura" in a book. It stayed in my mind for a while. I used to sneak into my mother's study often. It was mostly filled with specialized books I didn't understand, but occasionally there were novels or poetry collections too. Among them, my favorite was the works of Kenji Miyazawa. Among his works, the ones leaning more clearly toward children's literature were printed as thin, small booklets for each piece, making them easy for a child like me to pick up. I think there were "The Nighthawk Star," "The Restaurant of Many Orders," "Gauche the Cellist," and others. As I finished more books and my interesting options dwindled, the one I hesitated to pick up for a long time was the poetry collection. Yes, though I'm now deeply into poetry, honestly, at first, I didn't really understand it. And in that poetry collection I finally picked up, I found that word—"shura." I thought, this is it. But it was terrifying. It felt like looking into a mirror, seeing myself reflected. With six arms and three faces, an ugly version of myself—unable to hide anger, arrogance, and foolishness—was staring back at me. Sincerely,