Music Hall of Melancholy
Hushes scurry from seat to seat.
The orchestra eases into a melody,
Women adorned in jewelry make their entrance.
A delicate ballgown brushes the floor.
A deep shade of gray pulls the ruffles down of her dress.
Two women letting their voices ring loudly.
Can you hear their high pitches?
When she holds her stomach to allow her body to sing?
Permission granted to her to sing through the pain.
Your eyes are fixed upon her.
Her cheeks are full of plump and joy.
Golden strands of hair pinned up.
You want to have her light,
Her mind is innocent and beautiful.
Nothing like yours.
A new thought becomes your fixation.
You wish to know true joy.
Joy rarely enters in.
Your mind is malfunctioning,
They say.
At least,
That’s what your mother says,
Your pastor too.
Tell not a soul of your sadness,
Lest they think you are a deep sinner.
What sin have you committed?
Talked out of place?
Stayed up too late?
Renounced God?
No, far worse,
You were born.
And you can’t seem to understand why.
You desire to radiate and flow with the evening breeze,
But really you just long to be beautiful.
Your eyes fall off the stage,
Examining the stitches of your dress,
They are breaking at the seams.
Is your tattered dress mirroring the malfunctions of your mind?
But you have no time to fret.
They say your beauty is everything.
Hush your lips, dry your eyes.
A known phrase that has hissed at you since birth.
You never meant to bring shame to anyone,
But you did.
You could not help but be sad in times of glee.
And now all of your worth is tied into your beauty,
with a dainty pink bow mocking you on top.
It says,
“Do not tell a soul of your sadness, my dear.”
You smile brightly, a reaction caused by the people around you,
A mechanism you learned to blend in.
They continue to applaud from their seats, mesmerized by the show.
My sweet darling,
You did not sin.
Your brain hurts sometimes,
And that is passable.
The Light loves you.
And here is a secret I wish to tell.
The radiant woman stepped off the stage.
Smiling and gleaming from the work she had done.
She vanished off to her dressing room.
She quickly grabbed her items, rushed outside.
Her breath caught up to her,
Exhaling loudly.
Her brain was screaming at her,
“Your beauty is everything.”
A finely dressed man walked by with his elegant wife.
They applauded her once more,
Congratulating her on a marvelous show,
She smiled bright,
A mechanism she too learned.
The couple walked off,
The woman’s smile began to disappear,
She cast her eyes down to the street, and she sighed
“Why must I be so sad on such a beautiful day?”
Hushes scurry from seat to seat.
The orchestra eases into a melody,
Women adorned in jewelry make their entrance.
A delicate ballgown brushes the floor.
A deep shade of gray pulls the ruffles down of her dress.
Two women letting their voices ring loudly.
Can you hear their high pitches?
When she holds her stomach to allow her body to sing?
Permission granted to her to sing through the pain.
Your eyes are fixed upon her.
Her cheeks are full of plump and joy.
Golden strands of hair pinned up.
You want to have her light,
Her mind is innocent and beautiful.
Nothing like yours.
A new thought becomes your fixation.
You wish to know true joy.
Joy rarely enters in.
Your mind is malfunctioning,
They say.
At least,
That’s what your mother says,
Your pastor too.
Tell not a soul of your sadness,
Lest they think you are a deep sinner.
What sin have you committed?
Talked out of place?
Stayed up too late?
Renounced God?
No, far worse,
You were born.
And you can’t seem to understand why.
You desire to radiate and flow with the evening breeze,
But really you just long to be beautiful.
Your eyes fall off the stage,
Examining the stitches of your dress,
They are breaking at the seams.
Is your tattered dress mirroring the malfunctions of your mind?
But you have no time to fret.
They say your beauty is everything.
Hush your lips, dry your eyes.
A known phrase that has hissed at you since birth.
You never meant to bring shame to anyone,
But you did.
You could not help but be sad in times of glee.
And now all of your worth is tied into your beauty,
with a dainty pink bow mocking you on top.
It says,
“Do not tell a soul of your sadness, my dear.”
You smile brightly, a reaction caused by the people around you,
A mechanism you learned to blend in.
They continue to applaud from their seats, mesmerized by the show.
My sweet darling,
You did not sin.
Your brain hurts sometimes,
And that is passable.
The Light loves you.
And here is a secret I wish to tell.
The radiant woman stepped off the stage.
Smiling and gleaming from the work she had done.
She vanished off to her dressing room.
She quickly grabbed her items, rushed outside.
Her breath caught up to her,
Exhaling loudly.
Her brain was screaming at her,
“Your beauty is everything.”
A finely dressed man walked by with his elegant wife.
They applauded her once more,
Congratulating her on a marvelous show,
She smiled bright,
A mechanism she too learned.
The couple walked off,
The woman’s smile began to disappear,
She cast her eyes down to the street, and she sighed
“Why must I be so sad on such a beautiful day?”