Litkicks Message Board Archive

When going out

Posted to Poetry




The corner
is filled with pompous
sounds, competing
against each other

Yet the musician
behind the piano
massages
the keys to unlock
beauty out of
its ugly prison

I can drift away
guided by rising
and fading swirls
of audible faith

The piano is vacant now,
and I seek myself,
between the fallen angels
in the cloudy corner