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Minor Breathing

If only you could see.
What lies behind these fragile eyes.
The knowledge of these tears.
The reason I seem malign.

See, I was never prideful.
And forever, I felt scorned.
One's silence may seem frightful.
When he bows his head forlorn.

Knowing I've never fully triumphed.
Any chaos I have fought.
I cracked my blade in battle.
A repair that can't be bought.

Not pessimistic, nor of naught.
I just see things as they are.
That's probably why I can't believe.
How I've made it this far.

For, every path I trot.
I hear that wretched lonely tone.
And every breath exhaled.
I hear that solemn minor tone.

If only you could feel.
This fixated and tender heart.
These weakening hands still claw.
At it's reflective, fallen shards.

And in my somber dreams.
A cacophony of screams.
This madness, I can take.
Until that melody awakes.

For every move I make.
I hear that wretched lonely tone.
And every vein that pumps.
I hear that solemn minor tone.

That savage, painful tone.
Embedded in my flesh and bone.
The melodic burden drones.
My soul echoes it's metronome.

poem by Aaron Lynn
Added by Poetry Lover
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