Broken Keys

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A broken key, a forsaken dream...

Submitted: November 29, 2007

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Submitted: November 29, 2007



Broken Keys
Arena Hunter


What happens to a piano without its tune?

What happens to a forgotten dream?

They have no use, they serve no purpose.
They are only a piercing thorn in your side.
Life's music will have died.
Slumber has no reward,
Only to remind you of the bitter loss,
The harsh cords of dissonance.

What pains you must endure!
To remember lonely songs
From hopes for which you long.
A day without music
Is a day without desired emotion,
A day without modulation.

Broken keys are sharp to the touch
It is only a requiem to the dead...
The dead of soul and the dead of mind,
The dead holders of olden dreams.

And what are shattered dreams
But a recurring sense of defeat?
You throw them away in disgust
And disgust is what consumes you.

Forsaken dreams ... broken keys
There is no life to them.

It brings pain to remember
The dawn of a passing day
But you can't resist the urge to play.

Through all the sorrowful chords
You must forget your lust
And grasp to devastated trust.

So play your shattered dreams
And dwell on broken keys.
And forget the throbbing pain,
Ignore your bloodied fingertips.

Shattered dreams

Broken keys

© Copyright 2018 Arena. All rights reserved.

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