These Red And Black Walls,
Have Seen My Tears To Many Times,
This Out Of Tune Piano,
Has Felt My Shaking Fingers,
Grasping Onto Its Keys For Comfort,
For So Many Months,
My Eyes Are Strained,
Bloodshot And Stinging,
For The Millionth Time,
This Ceiling Has Looked Down Upon,
My Sleepless Slumber,
For Hours,
This Air Has Inhabited My Heaving Lungs,
For To Many Meangless Lives,
A Lesson Learned,
But Not Rewarded,
Returning To The Material Plain,
This Night Sky,
Has Wrapped Me In The Darkness,
For So Many Breathless Seconds,
Why Does This Paint Brush Sit In My Palm,
When The Canvas Is Already Onyx,
Lament,
Lugubrious,
Loved,
Lost,
Why Do Thesw Feelings Spin,
In A Continous Loop,
Why Does History,
Repeat,
Over And Over And Over,
Why Does The Pain Repeat,
Over And Over And Over,
Why Must There Be This Orchestrated,
Cycle Of Falling Down,
Getting Back On Your Feet,
Then Falling Down Again,
Why Must These Faces,
See My Paled Face,
The One Sick,
Of The Circulation Of Secrets,
The One Sick Of The Lies,
The One Who Is So Broken,
Because Everything Good That Comes,
Is Ripped Out Of My Hands