.

Shouts pierce the walls like the nails holding pictures, far too pretty for the words being thrown around.

Anger is boiling hot as a white-hot flame. 

Eyes begin to water and tears break over the barriers of paper-thin eyelid.

They stream down my face and leave traces of the saltiest kind of thoughts.

Hard footsteps pound the wood floor and a door is slammed, already imprinted with a hit from another war. 

Everything in the air hangs heavy.

And it hurts.