There is a story of which I know,

That no happy heart would dare to go,

The chimes ring silent in the frigid wind,

And the harpsichord’s tune lowers, tightens.

-

Before my tale, I must make preface,

The tale, metaphors, rightly seek justice,

For there are no emotions quite like found here,

Life just continues, a grinding gear.

-

When the flower lost its petal,

It said “These things just happen.”

It wasn’t time, it was a crime,

To let this flower die ugly.

-

The tree has lost its apple,

The only thing that marked its beauty,

No longer can it the apple cradle,

Its brilliant seed so fruiting.

-

Think of the dark storm cloud,

That lost its rain so pure,

It likely never will be found,

This sickness has no cure.

-

The feeling burrows in your stomach,

It eats away at your heart,

It terrorizes your mind,

To know they have found another to start.

-

Though no one has ever died,

From a muscle left this broken,

I guess I should have lied

Asleep, instead be woken.

-

Bring me the silken cloth,

From my box of fragile,

It will protect this darkened stone,

And mend it back to evil.

-

Think of every time you’ve cried,

About something you could not change,

And see if you still care to know,

Why it is yourself to blame.

-

Think of every category,

that you could have mended,

All of it an allegory

To your love intended.

-

When you see the bitter face,

Of reject and spite and be hated,

Coming from your used to be

Loved, but relocated.

-

You will find yourself the virus

Of your conjoined lives,

You will never be pious

Enough for their love, despised.

-

**** everything about yourself,

It helps ease the anguish,

But keep yourself here and conscious,

So you understand true languish.