*To be articulated eloquently in C Major*

Coming from inside his head,

Damn those voices, want them dead.

Engulfing his thoughts,

Forging his mind.

Ghastly hollows, is he humankind?

Always fighting the battle within,

Body vs. mind, the voices always win.

The scale evolves from within and transcends upon his skin.

The melody is the easiest to learn and the hardest to live with.

He has been subjected to the curlish sounds since the accident.

Struggling to assuage the tones emanating from inside.

Crescendoing conniption.

Decrochendoing dreams.

Beating. Pounding. Drowning.

Rhythms become noise.

Sounds become agony.

The lyrics continue to write themselves.

He has been a composer his whole life.

It is time to end his strife.

A wave of his hand slashing across his chest,

The violins scream to a halt.

He steps off the podium, no applause.

Just peace inside his head.

The lyrics.

The voices.

The body.

Dead.