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I write a lot of poems where I put myself in to collect my thoughts, but never this bluntly... I think I like this poem best out of every one I've ever written.
She Played a Broken Piano
She played a broken piano,
the keys would rattle under her pounding fingers.
We'd rarely hear her play, and we've asked her,
but Tsuki Rose would only laugh and say,
"No, I have nothing to show."
She played a broken piano,
the damper pedal refusing to allow the notes to ring.
"We spend so much time fiddling with the little things,"
Tsuki Rose would say.
She played a broken piano,
the one she destroyed, the one that smashed on concrete.
"This is no cabaret," Tsuki would say through clenched teeth,
plucking off another eyelash.
She played a broken piano,
tattooed with the images of 1930s Nazi Germany.
"For hope," she shrugged. Though, she can hear what they decree
in the backrow.
She played a broken piano,
the one she put her life into.
She's not really oblivious like they think. She'll glare through and through,
and say, "******** the backrow."
She played a broken piano,
the piano that no one ever heard.
The broken piano that cured.
"I always wanted to eat glass again," she'd laugh.
Crushed on the sidewalk below,
usless keys splayed about the split wood,
lay her broken piano.
She played a broken piano,
before she followed suit.
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