The Sound Of Breathing Poem by Andrus Cassian

Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
That sound, metronomic beating
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
Is that the sound of my breath, my breath leaving my lungs…
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
Or the sound of my voice bouncing off my echoing mind
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
Do I even have a mind
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
I don’t mind, I don’t really care
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
Even though it’s my job to care, my job to feel, to love, to bleed severely
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
It explains so much, why all I see is a combination of blue and red
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
The product, royal purple; my life essence or just another substance to sustain
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
A craving, sadly, it’s what it boils down to
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
“broken hearted”, “broken hearted fury”
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
Or is it really just another broken hearted run
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
What’s the difference if broken heart is all in the name?
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
It sinks me down a little lower every time I try
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
When it lingers, keeping it’s claws in me for days
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
Oh well, this is called growing up
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
At least, it’s what the brain passes down here
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
Do I believe? Eh, not really; I follow my own decisions
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
It’s kept me alive so far since I’m still kicking
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
I have a goal to carry out, ten jobs I need to sort out
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
Once I get out of this personal hospital, personal slump
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
Maybe my pulse can beat peacefully
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
Instead of missing a few steps like I’ve been kept in a freezer
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
Instead of feeling like I’ve been crying
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
Instead of feeling like the saddest metronome, metronomic beating
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
The sound of my voice speaking, no my voice is quite silent
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum
It’s just the sound of me breathing
Ba bum…ba bum…ba bum