A Declaration of Freedom
I find myself seduced
by your melody.
Echoing chords of piano;
drums bashing, a rhythm unlike my own.
Guitar strings, binding,
tattooing my wrists.
My mind fogged with conscious deceit.
The music stops
and my ears are ringing.
They won’t stop.
I press my hands onto my ears,
the pressure blurring my vision,
but the noise is inescapable.
Birthed from within my soul.
The lights hum with righteousness and the faucet drips a tale.
They chatter,
gossiping about what they have seen.
What they know is to follow.
Buckled knees on a cold bathroom floor.
The tiles,
all too familiar.
My reflection in the golden doorknob,
distorted yet completely recognizable.
I cry out in silence.
The rage, the regret, the sorrow.
The music is no more
but the melody continues:
the echoing of the past,
the bashing of my heartbeat,
the tattoos never fully healed.
Asphyxiated by the truth,
my tears like acid to the valley of my cheeks,
I etch my identity onto the walls,
bloodied with ink.
Lest I forget once more.
You say I am all there is.
What pitiful misery is that?
To be so carefree and independent;
to laugh without fear of judgment;
to never bear the weight of sacrifices you didn’t ask for;
to have all the riches the world could ever offer.
To be so completely and utterly untethered.
My dear, I have been awake for far too long,
and you snore with every breath.
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