Date: 25.03.2008
Time: 10:07 p.m.
Will you keep standing there, O withered wood,
Mocking melody with off-key tones?
Aren’t you the epitome of investment,
In wasted hope and embittered sighs!
Running sorry fingers over you
Gives me no joy!
Instead, it makes me shake with anger
And curse your despicable mantle.
It sickens me to touch those keys
That I had looked forward to press with love
You deserve to be eternally mute
To silence those piteously moaning strings
Along with the cry of anguish
That escapes my heart in spite of myself.
Do not befoul the folds of space
And stay fixed like a sombre statue,
Saluting failure and lost resolve
As you kill creation with your incompetence.
I hope you are removed from my sight soon
For I do not need more reminders of blighted dreams,
There are enough of those given up
To growing out of a world of lore.
End: 10:20 p.m.
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