I'm
lost in a melody,
grasping at diaphanous notes
and a hand that never
let go

I'm
composing songs
that people love,
but there's something
they don't know

They are sitting politely,
chins up, as they listen
like the proud nobles
they are.

They applaud sufficiently
with pale ringed fingers,
not knowing that the truth is really bizarre

What they have heard is my
very soul,that I dissected
myself in moments of despair and ruthless agony

Where I sat in a room wrapped in silky darkness, writing notes that I would not hear,so beautifully painful to me.