Garbage

I listen to the music,
It echoes through my mind,
The tune is familiar, yet foreign.
It lifts my spirit,
And drives me forward.
Whether to the abyss or not I do not know.
Nor do I care.
It carries me,
Further and further.
I think myself lost.
Garbage.
That’s all I feel now.
The music strains on,
I hear the fevered pitch.
I cry,
I weep,
Sadness overcomes.
Light,
Small and distant.
Very dim, yet discernable.
The pitch has changed.
Yet still I cry.
Green and white,
I see the flowers.
I weep,
It is not for me.
More garbage.
Darkness.

© 1/17/2008