I am the vehement overture.
I am the soundtrack of malicious sound.
I am the glare, the sharp, the chord that sends shivers down your spine.
I am the music you mistreat.
I am the case beneath your feet.
I am the girl who runs to the door,
because her eyes cannot bear what they see.
you are a seasick melody,
upon blind eyes, a G string harmony,
pleasent to the ear, but not withstanding,
honestly forgotten after a solemn moment
of listening and dreaming of the past.
What are we but broken haloes,
Disowned by angels,
our numbers vast.
(March 1st, 2009.)