My eyebrows are knitted into a braided furrow.
My face is planted firmly down into a pillow.
I squeeze the puff tightly to bring rise to the center.
This is where and how I muffle my anger.
This is how and when I soak boiling hot tears off of my cheeks and my chin.
I want to be the victim.
I want to flail in self pity again
and again.
To feel...