My little music bubble
is a mass of empty space
that only opens up to me
when I've fallen from grace.
It's glossy walls do shimmer sweet
with light and life and sound,
but questions as though I do have-
will it lift off the ground?

I enter with a careful toe
and hear the start of songs
that I'd forgotten to forget,
reminded of my wrongs.
All songs that played remind me still
of lives that I have lived,
yet something in my heart does reach
for something underived.

So pop my bubble, all you folk,
who wish to see me crash,
harder than ever, in your minds,
do I deserve to bash.
Make me sink rather than fly,
for in this lonesome time
I'd thought that we had said goodbye,
yet you continue to rhyme.

Left here I am with notes and sheen
of rusted rainbow hue,
left here am I with gloss and sound
that reminds me what is true.
Steering upwards I will vy,
as I drought with my tears,
for in sometime, as time goes by,
t'will be forgotten, in those years.