The kind of song you’d play alone,
Where no one can watch you wipe tears,
Where heart strings shrivel like dried fruit.
Get up and let the notes move you.
Maestro with the magic fingers,
Reducing my life to a mute,
Rinsing me clean of dissonant
Melodies of broken, scarred blues.
Where have you been all of my life
And why don’t I get to know my own?
Sinister wrapping hands at throat,
How long until we say ‘adieu’?
Look just how distorted I’ve grown.
“Why are you wearing that stupid man suit?”