Muffled thoughts of endless uncertainties. Wrench and jackhammers destroying the insides. An instrumental playing like smoothest torture. Noises from everywhere wreak further havoc. There's always a time for sadness. It's like heating a half-full kettle of water, when boiled, it gets out screaming. You can't silence it because kettles are created chanteuses. To question its ability to sing is to dispute the heart's...
