When did the music
Become so bleak and dreary,
I do not recall letting chaos
Play the night’s chords,
And I do not think
My ears have grown weary, so
Why then
Has the music taken
The form of tired melody, why
Then has it terraformed
Into a tilted maze
Where notes carry
Shame
And it all beckons the
Same, can it no longer
Cure me ? Can
It no longer translate
My murky puddle of
Thoughts ? Oh, whatever
Happened to the music
That Dante sought, did
It forget what
Brought joy
And what bred love ? I
Now only hear struggle
In the siren’s voice, did
It lose sight of the coast -
Is it left, now, with
Nowhere pleasant to go ? Or
Perhaps it is me
That struggles to see
The genius. Alas, I
Do not hear the Sun in
This song of yours,
And I confess I am
Afraid of the sound
That shares my bed,
I do not think I shall
Sleep tonight, I do
Not think I shall
Sleep at all.