My hips start to sway in rhythm to the angry tempo of my stomping boots. I tread a trail of anger and frustration. The beat of hate is when the sound of broken dishes or the scene of thrown eggs almost seems satisfying. This is the path of a scorned women. This is what comes before the tears. You feel like screaming at the top of your lungs, but instead lift a glass of destruction to your lips.
Who doesn’t feel destructive sometimes? The important part is to find reason before acting! I find writing and drawing very helpful when I feel this way. What about you? If you have anything to share feel free to comment?