Today has not been nice to my heart.

A vessel in me cracked when I just cemented the wall.

Indeed. That turbulent, ever-existing turmoil, one way or another, will make your throat gag and wail a small voice while your mango of a heart- sometimes better sour and sharp, sometimes best ripe and sweet- rips gradually, threads of yellow strings separate along torn skin exacting and extracting a pint of juices of the existing oppressed feeling,

And right now, I think am going to search for Plato about pain.