The Song

Hearing a new song, it can be enticing,
The thrill of getting to know its parameters,
The beat, the sound, wanting to know it all.
Needing to know everything about the song.

Who wrote it? What’s the time signature?
What’s the lyrics? The meaning behind the song?
Are there other versions?
The start of an obsession.

Later, another song captivates,
And the first, becomes boring.


(NOTE: I’m sorry if this offends anyone. It’s metaphorical for relationships. I’ve just seen many people jump from one person to the next because of “boredom” or they met someone more “exciting” or something. And that’s how I feel about songs sometimes lol So I’m very sorry if people find this offensive. Obviously not every relationship/person is like this.) 


But what if I want to break?
What if I want to laugh again?
If I were to fall, deeper than before,
Would anyone laugh besides me?

Maybe I won’t ever want to fight,
I’m back now, or am I?
My vision is fading,
And my memory is too.

They say I’m too young to worry,
Or to know what I want from life.
But you’ve found me and I know,
That what I want, is to be lost.

The Rotting Black Box

There is a box, a black, damp, moody box.
It hisses. It screams. This little black, rotting box.
But it has been opened. Why, oh why has it been opened?
Unleashed the horror from within upon the earth.

Is there any way, anyway at all, to put the contents back,
Back into this little black, rotting, damp box.
This box that has caused so much hurt, so much pain,
So much anger and frustration. This damn box,

This damn box, filled with such an awful sight,
An awful noise, who can bare it? Certainly not I,
But yet it is my box. My damp, dark box.
I need it gone, the contents must be put back,

The contents, my thoughts.