Burnt Bridges With Many Shut Doors
You’re thinking too hard,
about where you need to be
hardly ever where you want.
The places that are necessary
are the places that you crave.
Your heart is no longer in your breast,
but rather in your head because you
stirred the parts one n’ one together.
Your body is like a sandwich,
you have layers and you have ingredients.
But the pieces can be one and they can be many.
You may choose but there is no promise
because all that remains is a piano in the back
playing bad commentary of your life, voiceless.
You must not get louder but you can’t get quieter
because all doors must shut. Broken or burnt,
the bridges have been built and they were
put together with purpose in mind, to hold you up
whenever you fail to stand and notice all your pain,
hence crumble beneath your feet in the end from
all the burden they have carried you never
forgave yourself for forgetting the others that
you have left behind in your empty stead.
The room echos with no acoustics because
you have neglected thing after thing,
person after person, never allowing them
to pry for fear you will feel the pain again.
So stop and think of where you are, the wait
of your own tears have swallowed you up whole,
and you have left one person waiting for your soul
to finish its built completion in the darkness of the world.
© 2013 Melody
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