That girl yonder, who wears trendy headphones and wild curls that frame her reverse teardrop of a face, that shroud her fuzzy cat ears. Rumor has it that there are music bullets ricocheting inside her head, shattering its walls, her central cerebrum is at stake. A war is being fought inside her head, metallic music screaming as if savages in her ears, then there are the demons, who in their defense are drawing their swords for attack. The Metallic music plant bombs in the “mind-field” and in the dark, sleepwalking demons would tread on them, not knowing the endless string of perils that would result. Soon enough, the entire country is bombed off its axis. Experts estimate that about a million human lives were lost, a thousand homes trashed, an outpour of refugees displaced, looters and criminals now run rampant. War is the only solution for no one listens to what one another had to say. Everyone has built a fort of their own to protect themselves from all the hate in the world. No one was taught to talk peace, no one holds any degree specializing in communication, the word “harmony” is missing from the English dictionary. It is commonplace for people to plot against one another instead, out of spite or hurt. What goes on in the other parts of the world are insignificant. Nothing matters to anyone except for the tragedies inside their own sorry minds. That girl yonder, who wears trendy headphones and wild curls that frame her reverse teardrop of a face, that shroud her fuzzy cat ears. She misses out on conversations that take place on streets, which are sometimes worth listening to and, other times not so valuable but she never finds out which is which…