Saturday 12 January 2013

A Sob Story


A music man sits idle,
Content to fiddle his broken violin.
An eerie symphony glides along the passageways,
Passes along the depths of my soul.
A weary sob arises.

An unwilling cry,
A hopeless longing,
An eternal desire,
But then so immensely scorned.

A haunting melody fills the air,
Just like a wounded bird
Whose cry dies deep in his heart,
So does I arise.

Only to fall back in the shadows
Despised.

On my own,
I grieve.


((( asheil.august 5, 2011.friday.1650hrs.)))

 


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