The Song and the Master

I sang a song

You probably heard it wrong

Something other than it

Was intended to be

Perhaps the meaning was elusive

Or your critique rather abusive

But the song

Still broke free

The chandelier began to shatter

Stirring up quite the chatter

As the song

Made its way through

All the people were shocked

Thought they were being mocked

Yet heard something

Familiar and true

They sat out The Dance

Didn’t take a chance

Being told

It wasn’t worth their while

Master says what’s acceptable

Upright & quite respectable

So they just

Shut the fuck up and smile

Yes, the song caused a scene

Pulled their eyes from each screen

They looked around

And couldn’t believe

How the faces they saw

Were unfiltered and raw

Unlike what they were

Accustomed to see

Those “hearts” they wanted

Were not there when confronted

A tinge of feeling

Rather insecure

The song passed their feet

Lifting them off each seat

As they each made their way

To the floor

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And there was my heart On that sleeve drenched in blood, Squeezed to the last drop, Trampled, and pressed in the mud. The chalice was raised; “Take drink!” They all said. Whence my tongue rejected it, They cried, “Lie, thee, with the dead!” And you’ll paint a pretty heaven And turn mortals into gods While you stand and watch me burn Amidst complacent nods. You place filthy hands On my emaciated back. I’ll be what I will be When, alas, you paint me black! And I sank into my skin As you ripped out my tongue. “It’s for your own good,” Was the song to be sung. And, oh, they stoked the fire To set the demons free; Led by the shackles Of their mental slavery. And you’ll paint a pretty heaven And turn mortals into gods While you stand and watch me burn Amids...

The Abyss

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