Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2017
Tempo grave, sempre sospirando

An inner nocturne
When I am writing my own opus
The ink stains carress my hand
Crossed out lines, struck down

I am my own symphony
The sad tones of E flat minor
Paint the walls of this chamber a naive black
It creases the sheet music that I play

The resonating chamber within its thorny grasp
Keep my hands from playing
As the melancholic tones
Play their song on their own


The piano plays
I         yet

The piano GLEAMS

The piano SINGS
that    keeps    me

||: The piano LINGERS
From             choking

The piano SUFFERS
In an             eternal

The   p i a n o   SCREAMS :||
The   p i a n o   CHOKES
The   p i a n o   DIES
      p i a n o

Of              needles
and             thorns

D.S. Al fine, senza repetizione
[re-up cause something went wrong apparently]
Something I just had vent. Don't worry
Written by
Vyiirt'aan  21
     Vulpes and Zkulblakazz
Please log in to view and add comments on poems