Harpers of My Heartstrings
The strings of my heart are pulled taut like a bow
A tension within sourced deep down below
Too many odd dreams, inside me it seems,
Their wretched whispers, a bleak audio
They reach out and grasp my heartstrings impure
Why do they all hold so much allure?
All of them mine, but there’s not enough time
To give to all of my thoughts so obscure.
My head starts to pound, my mind now goes numb,
A song of discord, my dreams start to strum
Upon my heartstrings, and sprouting black wings
Flitter the flutterbies; Wingbeat to the drum
Out the window, a fell wind on the chimes,
My dreams are ill-lit like a forest of pines,
Yet never unknown, for they are my own,
Seasoned and flavored with hemlock and thyme
The wind is now roaring in the twilight
I suffer the scourge each sleepless night
All the long while, my throat fills with bile
For flutterbies flit, the devious blights
My dreams won’t let go of heartstrings so grim
Plucking and playing, live life to their whim
I haven’t the strength to battle at length
Thus I hearken to their dissonant hymn.
Copyright © Davis Mills | Year Posted 2022
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