Twelve chords past the ash on my bed.
Twelve chords to kill the pain in my head.
Eight picks left until you are dead;
Silenced. Washed away.
It's graceful this way.
Twelve chords to tell you what I really meant.
Twelve chords to show you how much I have spent,
Replacing the love that I sent.
Removed. Taken away.
It's easier this way,
But I am not alright.
No.
I will not be fine.
I may live.
I may get on through my lines,
But I will not be fine.
It hurts like a cist in my chest.
It bleeds like a wound without rest.
I can't say that I've tried my best,
When what's best is undefined.
Hidden. No substance.
Twelve chords past the ash on my bed.
Twelve chords to kill the pain in my head.
Eight picks left until I miss you.
Harder. Unconditionally.
I never learned how to play.
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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Absolutely lovely, this is really a great piece! The first stanza was my favorite, and the idea is very powerful metaphorically. Well done!
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Thanks. Yeah, it seems that the first stanza was what this was good for. I guess the entire poem could be cut down to that and still be what I wanted. It's always based on metaphors. Like I said to Amelus, it's all regarding some chords I tried to put together on the guitar to represent the pain I've felt for a woman I dedicated my will to, and I never learned how to play guitar. So, this basically represents the failure of the attempt to play a song for her.
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Remorse can be a real pain. Knowing how it happened and why is the key.
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Thanks for reasing Amelus. I wouldn't say that this is a poem about remorse. There's been so much pain regarding a single fucked up relationship that I've been struggling to pick apart, understand and piece back together for years. I took a new interest in playing the guitar, and I'm terrible at it. I basically wrote this in honor of the representative sound of the passion I feel for this woman based on all the pain and empathy I have for her; A sound I can't perfect. The sound I never learned how to make.
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Most of us are haunted by what could have or should have been. We build walls to surround, to protect us from pain that we don't realize is mainly self-inflicted. The first step to moving on is to realize that "what happened...happened". It can take years to move past the past, there is nothing wrong with that. Once you allow yourself to unhook the guilt wagon you can once again be able to move forward in your life. I know of what I speak, just got the whole, "I really like you but I wnat to date other people" thing last night. I'm not weepping over it, not overjoyed either.
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I can completely agree with you, but only regarding specific situations. Building walls around what we've identified to be the cause of our pain is natural, and in some cases, necessary, when there is nothing in your power that you can do to gain control and dominance over the cause. In regards to my situation with this girl, what happened did happen, and there's no changing the things that have or the effects that they have set in place. However, the connection between our worlds is undeniably existant, and the misunderstanding of motive and mental process that decided the outcome of what happened can still be put into light, and if the attempt to express my faults and motives behind what I've done fails, there will always be a way to express the truth of what I felt and still feel. Regardless of whether or not the recognition is painful, I refuse to build any shelter around the memory of what iniative I spent to support the passion I have dedicated to that woman. There will always be a song in my heart for her, no matter how it changes through time.
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I loved this, hauntingly melodic, lyrical.
Twelve chords past the ash on my bed.
Twelve chords to kill the pain in my head.
Eight picks left until you are dead;
Silenced. Washed away.
It's graceful this way.
Macabre yet beautiful, worty of clappies
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Thanks Kimmy. The first stanza seems to be the best. When I was finished putting it together, it's the one I was most proud of too. I have to say that I rushed myself in finishing this after the first lines came to my head. It could be so much more, because there's definetely deeper meaning.
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