Piled up dust, dark shades,
lack of colours, thought fades.

Imagine living in a coast town
Every day you'd get to see
the endless sea
how insignificant you'd be.
A single wave could mean your end,
send you down,
never to return from the depths of its magnificent cold.

Imagine living there,
having nothing left to touch,
to feel with your fingers, your hands, to hold
but loose sand, slipping through, ever fleeting, as dust.
Playing the piano would turn into a must
to survive. One final grasp on the thinned out strings of life.
The steel and copper wires forging dying fires.

One last press yet no rebounding sound.

At least you'd be alone, crazy but the only mad one with grace
for miles around, as your knees sink into the ground.
As you stare at the waves, calling out your name.
As you realize to them life is just a game
and you are just a waste of space