12,000 MG Later

I wanted you to know... the wound runs deep. Everything on the inside is broken, bruised and swollen... I'm not here anymore, just a shell of what was and should have been. The winds collapse the memories of dust... leaving behind the remnants of scar tissue and burnt photographs. Though the embers have aged a bitter cold, they burn nonetheless... stinging to my very core, the brittle and savage embrace. Tears have become the currency in which we pay... despair paved with sorrow lines the halls of wealthy men and children, while the women cradle the stillborn dreams and desires. I remember the strings and rhythm, nestled against my fingertips... how the tears rolled down into my mouth, choking on their salty, stale lament. Why, is the only thought that fills and escapes my mouth... why did I choose this? Why... why did we birth this existence, this memory? The melody shrieks out of time, singing all on it's own... this place, called home.