The Soul of An Abused Fiddle
my decrepit, shellacked, pain
it stretches my melodic thinned soul
into flickering multi-colored
shattered pieces
of what could have been (Might-have-been)
of sad, no-one gives a dam tunes
stroked on loosen string
sounding like two lovers crying in the night
till my cracking stiffen back
slowly bends over
as I try an musically scrutinize
each fallen departed melody (piece)
but my imperfect memories
brake my vandalize, person
and my meek legs become weakened
I buckle and fall shamefully
on jagged hostile rocks
because I, let myself realize
just how forcibly violated
I truly am
no truer look, need be closer
and i fall
upon my own bed of soiled grief
shouting and crying
only to ball up
in a self aware hate
I loathe, you singing liar
not because you stolen
my words on paper
but how you came about it
hurting little souls and tiny young fingers
to reach your goals
just to sing
on a glittering cover hell-bound stage
Copyright © Verlecia Fields | Year Posted 2017
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