She … smells of volcanoes sometimes.

She lets anger gnaw at her heart and she smells of volcanoes sometimes. The heat is immense and it burns her. But she also turns more fluid and lucid within. Sometimes she can then spew fuming words laden with truth that she courteously subsides in mild mental states. She sees herself anew. The remains of plastered masks peeling off. She sees herself burn and purify . She learns once again that she is not perfect. She is reminded that the reigns of self-control should not be taken lightly.

In this molten state she sees the world through a gaseous blur. She reaches the verge of misinterpreting all that is around her. She also risks being misinterpreted .She has eyes that burn and smoke.She becomes unapproachable. She invokes fear. Sometimes she invokes reverence. Sometimes she ends up overdoing it. She feels the worst when the fire of her rage engulfs an unsuspecting innocent soul. Molten within she is filled with remorse.

She deeply aches for her calm avataar. To acquire again for which she had worked so hard. She can see how calmness and rage define each other. She knows that the negatives cannot be completely sucked out of her being.

She is human. So, she shall smell of volcanoes sometimes. She also knows after all the exploding, burning and melting she shall crystallize… paving fertile grounds for grapevines and then she shall smell of flowers again.

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