Live a humble life,
meandering in melancholy,
a break in the sashay, in an artificial way.
I can't tell a story,
but I follow the strings,
they tug and tear at my heart,
a palpitating interruption,
I dug out the tincture,
a subtle strum is soothing,
the weakness is waning,
warrant of a wraith.
Everybody wants an echo,
a record to beat,
a sudatory heat.