Instead there shall be Music

I’ve been drowning in Beethoven
Allowing the complication of melodies
To fill the emptiness of my own self-pity

Blank face on hollow figure
By now almost part of the floor itself
Empty eyes staring at the ceiling

My brain is almost shut off
As I shut out the world
Only allowing my ears to remain functional

I shall only feel the crescendo and decrescendo wash over me
Only the vibrating strings and the proud brass and the sensational woodwinds
No longer the heart break self-inflicted by my own stupidity