My sorrow
Is a symphony-
Point and counterpoint.
Rhythm and tone.
Coalesce together,
But fall to ground
Like a stone.
In my mind-
In my mania-
My crescendos increase
In both harmony and pace-
This symphonic release
Swells so full on my face, that
My old furrowed lines
Are seen in staccato,
And my wrinkled skin
Sags a sad skins,
Sick legato
My orchestral fugue
Is surreal and chaotic-
Cacophony of sound
Tries expressing, neurotic,...