“He” was the problem…
The air was full of buzzing tones and flying melodies. Nothing was standing still until he opened his mouth. Each joyous note and each harmonious scale toppled down and broke like a million glass beads raining on a million glass windows. His words poisoned everything, with every breath I took hatred and arrogance slipped down my throat and seeped through my body. His continuous scale of words came out in a minor and hard fashion, leaping off his tongue biting at all they could. It was like an alarm clock that wouldn’t turn off and the only way to stop it was to throw it against the wall. I threw the stubborn maddening clock against the wall and watched as the springs and noisy “beeps” and “clangs” came to a stop. But I recover my mind and realize the clock was only figment of my imagination. As soon as I do, I hear the words hit me again like a screeching tire against hot pavement. This time he is standing up and in my face, he’s laughing about what he did like a hyena would as it wrings the neck of a baby antelope. I can’t understand how he could laugh at something like this, something so hateful with only bad intentions. The tears of the poor victim drop to the ground like big rain drops on an old tin roof. Each drop sounds like a bomb going off only pushing me to connect my fist across his face. Knowing that what he’s done has hurt someone so bad runs my blood cold but only to heat back up with anger moments later. I am recalling the moments before when the air was alive with distinct harmonies and I then see the hurt and frightened notes in the eyes of the wounded. My blood was pumping hate and revenge poisoning the rest of my body I turn to the nearest object and split the side his head. Collecting myself yet again I realize that no such thing happened.
By now I’m looking into his eyes and see nothing but hate and egotism. I know the only reason for his actions were to hurt and anger those around him. So I tell him, “Hey if you don’t shut the hell up, I’m gonna come over there and inform you on how it feels to get hurt”. He only chuckles knowing that he’s pissed me off to a peaking boiling point. He then let’s out another series of infuriating squeals like a pig who’s awaiting a shiny blade and a cutting board. I bring down a knife on his neck. His bodiless head looks up at me laughing at my failure to shut him up. If only it were to happen, if only.
Rage begins beating from my heart tingling in my fingertips, reaching every corner of my body. I look down at a crying soul and then look up at the source of all the sadness and hatred. I see everything, everything that is not good. I realize that with this blazing fire fighting against me I will not succeed by blazing back, so I bend down with an open hand. The frightened melody looks up and touches my hand. At that a wave of beautiful sweet song bursts into the air filling up every nook and cranny. My tide of ire slowly recedes and a cool breeze soothes my wounded mind. I then realize my emotions of hate and fury would only lead me to hurtful violence.
An angry man bangs at the closed doors in my mind but he is hushed by a melodic tune flowing through the air. The man then finds that the constant banging is only a burden holding him against an everlasting tune. He now sits and listens to the song and will stay there because he knows what will happen if he is let out.
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