365 Poems: January 21st, 2014

Music Box

Note: After a recent turn of events this poem is kind of irrelevant, but what the heck.

Some can wash the tears away with a bottle

or a tub of Rocky Road.

Some can hit the gas and gears at full throttle,

speed away, and lighten the load.

But my weapon of choice

would be the voice

of drumsticks, strings, and keys.

Drowning my sorrows in a music box.

So turn it up, could you please?

If you lock yourself up inside the thick glass,

where no one but you can hear,

you find that it will become so easy to pass

all those sad little things you fear.

Horse hair to wire;

the songs are the fire

to melt all the feelings you freeze.

Drowning my sorrows in a music box.

So turn it up, could you please?

Don’t think that he’ll ever understand you more

than the music you can play,

and do not create for yourself a long chore

to try to make him hear your way.

I’m sure that he cares

so hit up the snares

to a drum roll that rings in the eaves.

Drowning my sorrows in a music box.

So play it again, could you please?

Another Note: Well, maybe it is still relevant.

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