Voice says a lot about people. Not how you sound, but how you say it. Singing sound, yelling sound, whispering sounds. A father screaming, like a sudden drop into the cold ocean, an ocean and deepening and powerful. Or a little girl shrieking, like a stream, a narrow, abrupt disturbance in the silence of the land.
Talk. All we do is talk. The teacher’s condemning, condescending comment stings, like a sharp bee sting. The movement of the boss's mouth mocking a new employee, a whipping into submission. The harsh tone pounds on his ears, a migraine constantly aching.
The low growl of the students voice verbalizes the apathy and anger he feels. The man on stage, screaming, singing obnoxious songs. His pain is disguised in the eccentric, nonsensical mumble of poems. His tongue screams for help. The tones, how the sound is presented, can tell you exactly what a person is, or what they aren’t. Sound pounds like a waterfall, or soothes the ear like the smell of hair.