play your many songs inside of me,
attempt to tune my heart strings,
try so hard to orchestrate your symphony,
just don't be hurt at this failure to sing

create your many images inside of me,
while your fingers shake as you etch,
you desperately paint my soul as you see,
just don't be hurt at this failure to sketch

design your many verses inside of me,
type with your skeletons, such creative lines,
as you twist beautifully, dark poetry,
just don't be hurt at this failure to rhyme

sculpt your many stories inside of me,
pour out your bleeding, dreaming parts,
for journal and pen is what you seek,
just don't turn away at this failure of such an art

this sad, sad song within, seems to thrive,
but truth be told a new one has arrived...
it's faint but steady and one day I'll be ready,
to rejoice in its joyfulness, that may somehow let me rest...
-S.M.