Music to be Hated
itz white and black
the skill i lacked
'tho many remarked about the Talent
i knew i knew myself
scaling up running down
seventeen times i counted
till the hammers swung
and my fingers deeply wounded
you defeated me wholly
i've never felt so strayed
pray never to touch me again
yet return all you have taken
bestow upon the music yearned
and allow for once
these seventeen years
to touch the foreign heart
deep within that art.
-adapted from jamie's
music to be hatedpoetry is such a beautiful thing.
and beautiful things touched my life before.
my heart is plunging down like waterfall. what can be done to salvage the broken pieces?
must i delude myself in the unlikely fantasy so see another unlikely happy ending?
or will there be any in the first place?