At a distance, a harp begins to play
Mellifluous tunes attempting to capture the heart astray
Every single note pleasant to the ears
Every note reviving the comatose fears

Beautiful is the song as it is enchanting
Through agile fingers, a masterpiece in the making
But as the riveting sound cavorts the insipid walls
Dispelled memories return like raging falls

Strumming the strings equate a pronounced invitation
Melodic verses transmogrify into proposed elation
But the rhythm is alarmingly familiar
Whose end averts from the spectacular

The harps plays, the harp sings
Obnoxious bells produce clamorous rings
For the songs it sings are dulcet
But the notes may be disguised bayonettes

The comely harp will continue creating its art
A fragile bubble vulnerable to approaching darts
As the music invades every corner
May the north be an inexorable commander

It was selfish of her
To leave.
She needed the change;
Had to move,
Having been stuck so long
She felt suppressed,
And so depressed.
She just needed to leave,
But where could she start?

He was easiest to leave,
The most convenient to cut off;
He didn't hold on,
He didn't even try.
She didn't know,
Was she angry
That it was easy for her to leave?
Or that he didn't even try to stop it?

But she had to leave,
The reasons didn't matter,
The semantics were moot,
Whether he wanted her to,
Or he didn't--
Whether she wanted to,
Or she didn't want him to let her;
Nothing mattered.

It was truly selfish of her
To leave.
She had to fly
And he made it easy for her
To leave him behind...