Pitter patter,
Is that the sound of the drops of rain streaming outside down my windowpane or is it in the pain I am feeling while the tears cascade down on my swollen cheeks?
I try to speak but no words come out,
The rain stops.
Pitter patter, the sound of my tears and the thudding of my heavy heart are now one.
I try to speak but no words come out.

Venturing towards the solidifying plains of perspective
Fields and valleys rapidly breaking apart
Rising into the sky with the breeze-
Our voices. Loud and warm
I see the clouds and how beautiful they look with you
To see the world from above to below
As above
So below
To the words that I rip from every street corner
To the music in foreign tongues
I bow my head in respect
Let fly all the different words that won't solve our hearts

That when the sky rises with the breeze, you'll look to me
Wondering where my arms do lie
And for you, the same
I want to always breath with you
In these plains of perspective, I do

There are good sounds
and bad sounds.
There are those we want to hear
and those we don't.

There are sounds that make some smile:
     the voice of a person,
     a baby's first cry,
     the melody of a song,
     the chirping of birds in the sky.

There are sounds that make some frown:
     the sound of a gun firing,
     military trumpets at a funeral,
     the sound of a phone ringing
     when it's an unwanted call.

But those that make some frown
also fills others with joy,
and those that make some smile
could be the misery of a young boy.

Sounds can repair,
and sounds can destroy.

i'm screaming under the layers of sounds;
i don't know where they're coming from,
but they keep pointing at my broken heart.
the edges of this glass-piece contraption between my lungs
sing like static against my rib cages,
muting the sound of the words i've been aching to say.
the sound of the tearing resonates relentlessly like the rain,
and there is comfort in the sound,
but it feels heavy in my chest
like the apologies that rotted in your throat
before you could tell me everything.

i'm screaming under layers of sounds;
i don't know where they're coming from,
but they keep pointing at my throbbing head.
the thoughts that rage sound like breaking glass,
and they create shipwrecks in my calm mind.
the words that you said still bombard the walls of my skull,
carving every sentence that i wanted to hear from you,
but never dared leave your mouth.
perhaps i'm going crazy, but at least feel a tad bit honored
that the way my head spins
is all caused for and by you.

i'm screaming under layers of sounds;
i don't know where they're coming from,
but they keep pointing at you.
you used to be my symphony, my only melody,
but you left me a broken note and a crooked key.
the parts that you planted your kisses on
decided to sound like raging storms and sirens.
the way your fingertips trickled down the line of my back
used to echo the song of the stars,
but now they hum the world's saddest tunes.
you buried me beneath these sounds, and not even i can hear my soul.