Yank it...
It unfolds
Miles and miles of
Long splinter-like arms.

Try it...
It yearns to hold
Its own in
Vast masses of attack.

Lose it...
And the world will know
That you have not
Enough to exist peacefully.

 

Slamming into the crowd
I try to slip in.
With shotgun lightning
The barrage continues.

Fighting for breath
I engage once morein vain.

Words . . . more words,
Thrown at me,
Block my voice.
I am unable to speak...
Please, may I enter?

 

The symphony over,
I still walk in time to music.
The mind continues
A repetition of lyrics,
Both written and not,
To music that does not exist.

Perhaps I was a torch singer
Belting out woes and loves
In an earlier life.

The conductor's baton is stilled...
The orchestra's instruments are mute...
The breath which once hummed melodies.

What have I now become?