Minstrel
A mad man I am not
But a mere troubled minstrel.
I look not at the sun
But listen to its heartbeat.
I hear.
Wails of lambs. Lamentation.
Disgruntled moans. Crying violins.
I breathe not air
But cursory images of life.
I see.
Carnage. Speeding bullets.
Mildew. Emerald men with wings.
I sing not sweet lullabies.
But choleric people's angst.
I resound.
Echoes of melancholia. Thunderous screams.
Sobs of unwanted souls. Apathy.
I am but a troubled spirit.
But a mere troubled minstrel.
I look not at the sun
But listen to its heartbeat.
I hear.
Wails of lambs. Lamentation.
Disgruntled moans. Crying violins.
I breathe not air
But cursory images of life.
I see.
Carnage. Speeding bullets.
Mildew. Emerald men with wings.
I sing not sweet lullabies.
But choleric people's angst.
I resound.
Echoes of melancholia. Thunderous screams.
Sobs of unwanted souls. Apathy.
I am but a troubled spirit.
Rhymed by Big Bad Red @ 12:00 AM
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