when in my heart the weight i feel
overly downcast like the skies above
how my knees tremble in weakness
as i sit in front of my piano, shameful
crying, the most melodic beauty my hands
can, slowly in their accidental movement,
so beautifully deliver
as if the winds stir with my melancholy
and the music upon which my distress
holds, and holds me imprisoned
locked in my own bruised voice so low
so lost so broken
the chatter of the leaves outside where
my body aches to be consumed
softly calls me into a deeper stance
of oblivion, to be lost and never be
found and forsaken and taken
for granted, why when woe calls
my name, bittersweet, hopeless,
i present no resistance, dutifully
i heed and follow.