The pen scratches the paper in a rhythmic, soothing noise. They barely drown out the glimpses of her held back sobs. Her tears stream down her cheeks as she pours every feeling and thought into the inky, black words. They do her thoughts and feelings no justice, but they are the secret keepers of her heart. She cannot hold them back any longer; they beg release from her guarded heart. They pound against her walled up heart like disillusioned revolutionaries in the square. The pen and paper are her relief when the world turns dark and humans turn into monsters.
Word Count: 100