Broken
Son(g or net?)
It is toxically suffocating
To be left in silence,
utterly alone;
Those brutal scenes come
rushing back to me,
A cruel reminder of my greatest
loss;
To be told of how you fell
once before,
To open that half-healed
wound again,
Only to be shoved back into
that argument:
The voices clashing in sharp
dissonance
Like clanging cymbals in the
middle of
A glass lullaby.
Though begging a resolve,
notes are withheld;
It smothers so I am gasping
for air,
Air that I’ll never actually
have
Because the music stop(s or
ped?)
