The Colors of Her Mind.

Coming back home, I walk through the door. 
In the corner of my eye, I see her coming towards me. 
The colors blind me from seeing her pretty face or hear her voice as she talks to me. 
the colors of her mind and its thoughts: 

Murky green, red fire, and thick maroon; 
Arrogance, anger, and a child’s broken heart. 

She raises her voice but all I can focus is the hurt and desperation in her eyes.
“You owe yourself the validation of your heart’s pain.” I say, in my mind. 
The buzz of the white noise starts to rise in her head, getting louder with her agitation with me.
I walk away from it. 
As she follows me, her fire’s flames grow and grow. 

There’s no logic in dealing with someone who’s ripped up by the anger of the consciousness as it tries to silence the unconsciousness' crying, hurting child, stuck in the dusty corners of the mind, the dark shadows of the soul, shielded with ignorance. 
And everything else inside suffers from the flames instead. 

Anger cannot destroy the old pain.
I think to myself  "I’ll pray for you."