Tantrum.

He found himself back at her doorstep,
Tenderising his knuckles on her threshold,
While his feet felt like they were sinking through the concrete.
Silence.
The little child within was pulling down on his stomach and ribcage,
Down, down, down.
Stomping its grubby, impish feet with impatience and he felt himself sink lower.

"Why?! Why do all my questions start with why?"
"Why are you never there when I need you?"
Silence.
His lips drooped, feeling as if they were about to slide off his face.
His eyelids descended on what felt like dirty puddles,
He clasped and shook the doorknob half-heartedly.
She never responded to shallow demands.
He knew that.
But it only intensified his need.
It happens every time.

Words.

When I was strolling through my campus I caught a small exchange of conversation between two international students.
"I'm sorry"
"Don't contempt yourself"
"Okay"
They were both speaking at the same level of intensity - casual. The use of words far out weighed the lightness of intention.

When I continued strolling and the two students were left behind in their banter I began to ponder the meaning of words and their place. To me, they are just tools, and on their own they aren't very useful, they need our intention to put them to use.

Vocalising your intention through tones, with words being the vehicle, is easy to understand. However, when these same words are left silent on a page, the intention is lost from the writer (usually) and it is up to the reader's discretion to decide their value and how it will affect them. It can create misinterpretation for better or worse.