The Sonata

The tones on the piano
change as each tear falls,
hits the ground, and dies.
The tune of the piano
gets sadder, more desolate,
after each sigh and sob.
The pitch of my voice
matches that of the foghorn
blowing in the stillness.
The pain in my voice
grows with each cry,
drowning out the world.

menoh

I am a button pusher. I stir up trouble. It is what I do. I live in the borders between light and dark. I can write about beautiful things, and joy and love, but I find I am more creative when i write about the dark. I love to hold a mirror up to the...

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