“He sits in a quiet room, with a lock on the door to keep him in.”- Foo Fighters, Friend of a Friend
he sits in a quiet room and the world is all the rage outside it bangs inside the walls of his heart until bursting but it never does and it never grows it never makes room it just grows more crowded and he suffocates even when he opens the windows even when he sticks his head out even when he sticks his legs out and stands on the ledge even when he breathes the clean and sterile scent of winter even when he flies his heart simply has no more room