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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