Enter the mournful cry of a violin. On their shoulders, they carry the weight of a thousand broken hearts, torn and battered by the lies of the ones they once cared for. The Details
, the causes they have no relevance, only the grave results brought on by them. In the corner of your consciousness, you're only slightly aware of the soft piano- the repetitive sounds of relief, a Shelter
from falling into the bottomless pit that your stomach has become. However, before granted the alleviation, the oncoming dissonance of a guitar beckons repressed feeling, feelings that for so long have been locked away, no key in grasp. Anger, and confusion, cascading thoughts of a sudden betrayal, flood your vision, tinting your sight red. That vile, putrid ***stained Dog
, the pain they willingly caused. Can this rage, this blind, unrestrained hatred ever be abated? Stuck in a moment, days, weeks and years all pass in a second stuck in a suffocating ambience, a Town Line
unable to proceed; as long as you hold this anger, you will never be allowed to live. Letting go, you let the waves of reprieve wash over you. Acceptance. You can't change what happened; as the saying goes what's done is done. You have to think back to the Years
of bliss; times shared, enveloped in the overwhelming melodies of a relaxing ecstasy, simple in execution yet so complex in value. It's time to move on. Time to let go, time to start over.