بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

some day, I'll be free, free of this life, free to leave, carried like weight on a boat, threatening to tip over, so saltwater I breathe, until blackness is the vision, and so silent ends my part on stage, my role in the scene. to keep hold of a thing i cannot give, may as well be underneath, the ground or an ocean, nothing left for these veins to bleed. can't sever some ties, borne in blood, have to keep them alive, or risk His wrath, be cursed for all time. oh resonance, where the hell are you? where do you exist? why is my violin, so broken, its chords so stiff? where is that musician's soul, to pluck your strings, and bring me back to whole?