[Poem] Let them Play.
Let them play.
Tender strings upon hearts torn, playing soft melodies of lilac days captured within a haze of misty tranquility,
Bearing away the stones of fate cast so carelessly upon the tables of his soul in a gesture of noncommittal love.
Light strands of notes dancing upon the tattered flesh of one so young, playing upon the blood-soaked remnants of what he once was.
Let them play.
Entrapped within a timeless waltz, battling to and fro along those planes of his innermost, dueling without words,
To the steady rhythm of song, unnamed tune a lullaby for the dread, dark nights floundering away into nothing but shadows.
Percussion tattooing along the surface of his heart, forcing the gashes to open into the unyielding light of day.
Let them play.
Revealed bloodied and fallen from dreams, eternal music rubbing into the wounds of yesterday, relishing in melancholy,
Wrought with riddles, symphony of tormenting sweet melodies writhing about in the cavity of all that he is.
Smile erased in moments of passion long since dead, resurrected once more against the backdrop of a voice, almost silent and forgotten, a single note caught along the winds of the past, descended into his being as an eternal orchestra, forever playing, forever dancing.
Let them play.
Tender strings upon hearts torn, playing soft melodies of lilac days captured within a haze of misty tranquility,
Bearing away the stones of fate cast so carelessly upon the tables of his soul in a gesture of noncommittal love.
Light strands of notes dancing upon the tattered flesh of one so young, playing upon the blood-soaked remnants of what he once was.
Let them play.
Entrapped within a timeless waltz, battling to and fro along those planes of his innermost, dueling without words,
To the steady rhythm of song, unnamed tune a lullaby for the dread, dark nights floundering away into nothing but shadows.
Percussion tattooing along the surface of his heart, forcing the gashes to open into the unyielding light of day.
Let them play.
Revealed bloodied and fallen from dreams, eternal music rubbing into the wounds of yesterday, relishing in melancholy,
Wrought with riddles, symphony of tormenting sweet melodies writhing about in the cavity of all that he is.
Smile erased in moments of passion long since dead, resurrected once more against the backdrop of a voice, almost silent and forgotten, a single note caught along the winds of the past, descended into his being as an eternal orchestra, forever playing, forever dancing.
Let them play.