Starting with the simple root,
Feeding nutrients out of my surrounding,
The sprout shot up
In its unorthodox ways.
Darkness choked out any light,
The faint rays peeking through
Only on occasion
So that sound became a primary sense,
Feeding my mentality with every discorded beat.
And the more I heard it,
And the farther I sank,
The more I understood
Until finally,
The broken tones
Became what used to be me -
Or what used to be living.