A ball and chain precariously overlook my cheek.

Once again, it has rolled to the precipice, waiting

For the right song to knock it off and send it rolling,

Marking its trail with chalk so no one misses it.

I never used to cry this much, but now it happens often,

Spurned by melancholic chords and sultry voices.

Forlorn lyrics drive a stake in that I’m tired of feeling

And arouse thoughts that I’m tired of regurgitating.

Bitter like the chyme of an acidic burp, these words

That incessantly dance in my brain keep taunting me

Even without the headphones and sound and screens.

Go... The door’s open... I didn’t mean it then...

Maybe I did a month ago when pain was choking me

And there was a persistent rock in one of my aortas...

But, now these words claw at my brain daily, hourly...

I hate you, I love you, I hate that I love you...

You probably think that you are better now...

You keep playing me, playing me, playing me like a fool...

You got to keep me focused. You want it? Say so.

The ball rolls down the precipice once again

As the pain from the claws dragging along my brain

Plus the claws digging into my bruised heart

All become too much and I break down again.