Listening to: Suffocating Under Words Of Sorrow by Bullet For My Valentine
Turns out Business class can be quite productive after all.
Sort of. :]
Anger.
The fiery demon that eats your soul,
sends you spiraling,
makes you want to explode,
destroying yourself and everything else,
biting at your insides,
urging you to shout.
Fight.
Scream.
Ward off whoever tries to "help",
whoever pretends to care,
giving an absolutely appropriate cause
to slide that blade cross his throat,
to lodge that screwdriver into his head,
to pull that trigger with no regret,
leaving little room for guilt,
and no reason for remorse.
Or apologies.
But me?
I'm sorry.
You know how it is.