Minor Breathing Poem by Aaron Lynn

If only you could see.
What lies behind these fragile eyes.
The knowledge of these tears.
The reason I seem malign.

See, I was never prideful.
And forever, I felt scorned.
One's silence may seem frightful.
When he bows his head forlorn.

Knowing I've never fully triumphed.
Any chaos I have fought.
I cracked my blade in battle.
A repair that can't be bought.

Not pessimistic, nor of naught.
I just see things as they are.
That's probably why I can't believe.
How I've made it this far.

For, every path I trot.
I hear that wretched lonely tone.
And every breath exhaled.
I hear that solemn minor tone.

If only you could feel.
This fixated and tender heart.
These weakening hands still claw.
At it's reflective, fallen shards.

And in my somber dreams.
A cacophony of screams.
This madness, I can take.
Until that melody awakes.

For every move I make.
I hear that wretched lonely tone.
And every vein that pumps.
I hear that solemn minor tone.

That savage, painful tone.
Embedded in my flesh and bone.
The melodic burden drones.
My soul echoes it's metronome.