The music died.

Alone I sit and ponder,
upon my perch up high,
swinging on the rooftops
            hoping I might reach the stars.

~Stupid child,
        Dreams are just that.
                Dreams.
          They will never be reality~

Down I crash,
  Wondering how I missed the cloud
                        (That I'd been aiming for,
                            for as long as I can remember)
          Lying lifeless on the ground
              Every last bone crushed beneath the weight
                                  of this so called  R.e.a.l.i.t.y.
                          (What is that by the way?)

Black spider webs eat at my every thought,
    so hand me the elixir of life
truth, and everything in between.

So I'll place this poison to my lips,
and hope that death comes swift
as the sonata drifts in and out of my ears.

  Laughter on my lips,
  remember to hold the fermata
(How I wish someone would just hold /me/)
As the conductor pauses in the fourth count
  grinning out at an empty stage

He knows this song all to well,
  Much better than I could ever dream
  even though my fingers press the buttons
( I can hear the noise.. But not the music
  ~ When did I become so mechanical?~)

So tired of being a marionette in this so called play
    Drifting from act to act as though it's nothing.
Just a change of costumes and scenes,
  Remember your lines child, and maybe they won't kill you.

Quarter notes and half notes
pounding in my ears, enunciations
    and pronunciations
Mean absolutely nothing here.

Crashing back to earth,
May-day may-day
Somethings gone terribly wrong,
looking from the mirror...
                            Why surely that's not me?

Sitting on the floor
        ( Why I was sure I had been standing just a moment ago)
with instruments strewn,
  and costumes tossed aside,
paints splattered on the walls,
          wishing I'd just die.

Because surely that's not me.