A Rebuttal To My Sorrow

Dear 1:00 a.m. memories,

I close my eyes to visualize music as it’s melodies create visions warped into my being, seeing what I thought to be essential 

A little girl confused as to what she hears 

Creating a picture dependent on mistakes screaming because she can not keep her eyes open long enough to read the lyrics and even if she could

She hadn’t the capacity to decipher what they meant. 

A scratched record stuck on the part about her fictional dream 

Which seems to be out of reach or not in the proper scheme of which her life ought to be planned 

Why make it seem like it’s out of her hands? 

The lyrics read nothing of this claim 

STOP dwelling on fabricated pain 

Adjusting the record to its former glory 

I begin to hear each piece of a disheveled story  

But Please Let Me Explain

Can I not feel a little pain because  

I can’t seem to see what my mind vividly reads 

the images register rigid or imperfect 

neither concrete nor correct 

Until the morning I shall remember each lyric from tonight 

Hopefully, one day 

I will get one right 

Sincerely, 

Carrie Strike