That Voice Will Never Go Away

I remember staring at the wall after our last fight. You punched me, and I picked up a phone and yanked the cord out of the wall. I charged after you with blood all over my face and dripping off my clothes. My frustration had finally reached its breaking point, and I charged after you like a raging bull. I suppose one hit would have been sufficient, but your face looked like a pinata, and I needed you to break.

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