Misery loves company.

Another argument,
she feels broken and bruised.
"Why are you so miserable all the time?"
She swears, begs, she isn't.
"I'm sick of your attitude."
What do you mean?
Screaming and yelling,
the slamming of doors.
She slides to the floor,
black rivers roll down her cheeks.
Even with all these voices screaming at her,
she's never felt so alone.