Monday, October 24, 2016


How do you call it a day
when your rusty
heartbroken fingertips
that still smell of steel
are crying, weeping
wanting to spend more time
on the frets board

it has to be
the greatest love story of all time

getting rougher and rougher
the more those corroding strings
cut into the flesh
to create tunes unheard before

but it is 2AM
and my sleepy neighbours
knock on the wall
and I separate two
hopeless lovers
for the sake of the
outside world

it has to be
the greatest tragedy of all time

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