The record is a bleak broken black bottle of bitter,
The death rattle rattles in the rhythm of a quitter.
The music player laughs, so much for friends,
I guess this movement form has danced with loose ends.
Violent melodies arouse the mind of a princess,
Narcotised notes cause heavy distress.
The ball stands in silence as the gentle sound stops,
One's brain lacks vibrance as a static body drops.
Instruments in the room now care for the skies,
As they gather around and play their,
Lullabies.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Souls
PoetryA collection of dark poems I have wrote in regards to various mental disorders, as well as heavy life problems including substance abuse, violence and poverty.
