Think about it.
Nothing at all is without a tune.
Your heart beats a giant, striking chord, you are the new day;
you talk with pitches, pitches of rock music, anger brings me hardcore strong,
staccato, fortissimo; sorrow bringing a more tranquil pitch, pianissimo;
the seconds of a clock tick light staccato percussion; you even breathe with the
heaving ensemble of wind instruments.
Even in dead silence, music somehow brings its way there.
Imagine the library, the room is empty, but the air conditioner starts running,
almost the low buzz of the tuba.
You can't escape it; you can't hide it.
Wherever you are, there is something,
something around making some kind of noise,
waiting for me to make something of it.
I gazed at the email of hate.
Walking into the other room my mind
shifts like a tiger about to hunt it's prey.
Arms raise back, I look through my brow,
breath becomes rougher and deeper, growling
at whatever was around me.
The caged animal inside my body comes out
and attacks; I throw the first thing in my hand.
I glance over at my sister, she looks back at me. The
look of muse surprise glares back at me.
I run to the corner wall with my head against my arms.
Scared tears run down my cheeks.
She comes over and hugs me from the back.
A warm beam of energy went through my back into my
heart, I gasped a breath of air.
The pain inside my heart dulls.
I then got up and hugged her.
"Never give up without a fighting chance because you never know what's going to happen."