or; Poem in E-sharp minor, if you must . . .
I look across the verdant field
The sky, completely overcast
It seems to mirror perfectly
The way I used to feel
Tumultuous, twisted painfully
The thoughts of just what could have been
The memory of your lovely face
Is all I've left that's real
The lightning comes, it strikes the ground
And throws its sparks across the field
The grass, once green, now coppers from
The licking, burning flames
I stand there in a ring of fire
And let the flames course up my calves
I'm past the point of feeling; I'm
Consumed within my thoughts
The skin begins to crack and peel
I feel the pain, at last, begin
To rouse me from my lifeless world
And take me out again . . .
I'm finally breaking out of the cycle I've been in
Pity that the only thing to break me out is my pain