Broken To Pieces

Her wary notions became vile. She threw the furry, blue pillow at the ceiling fan. The chilly breeze sent multiple feathers down with it. She had joy in her juvenile ways. She wasn’t one too finicky about getting into trouble. Her eyes lay upon the vase, sitting on its throne so nonchalant. With damp eyes she pushed her worries to the back of her mind. The pixel, framed picture of Daffy sat on the wall behind. The floor was bloody from the drippings of her wrist. The carpet lay disgusted as the sheer color of red took over. The once rapid spinning fan hung still. All noise was shut silent. The vase sat cooperative as of not running. The colors of the flowery flowers were the brightest things in the room. The curvy vase was as fine as a dime. Her arm abandoned her mind as it slowly reached out. It was warm. By an index finger it slid across. The wonderful height was enough to send it crashing down. The vase. It was lying on the ground in pieces. Her wary notions wasn’t fair. It was fine. Her revenge was enough. She wanted them to feel the way she felt.