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