Battlefield

The crack in the fake smile threatens to break her whole facade, the sadness that she has so convincingly managed to hold down for so long, now poses a danger to her image. This image, constructed as a means of protection for others, and herself; from herself. Her thoughts were deafening, demanding her to not let the pain show, pleading her to keep the spiral contained and lock it back away within the depths of her body and soul, cage it within the prison at the pit of her stomach, and throw away the key. So, it's behind bars, forgotten about... right? The tornado refuses to be detained, and burns through the prison's steel reinforcements, crumbling everything in its path with utmost ferocity and agony - personifying the anger and rage that had been internally crippling her for as long as she could remember. The tornado inched higher and higher before it uncontrollably flew out of her mouth with a piercing, heart-wrenching scream and ice-cold waterfalls of tears and raindrops. She fell to her knees, clutching at her hollowed-out chest, watching fragments of glass separate and drop from her skin. Refusing to give up, she rapidly picks up each shard and fuses them back together into place, habitually wipes the tears from her eyes, and fixes the smile back on her face. With a deep breath, she heads back out into the battlefield of life, wearing her smile as her armour, ready to fool people for another day.