Her Bloody Violin

She strums the chord With her shiny fiddlestick. Back and forth she goes Tracing out the lines drawn out in Sharpie. She looks out her window to see The sun has rolled off a cliff The flowers have shed their vibrant petals The dainty birds fly beheaded Oh! the melancholy she sees... But none of it matters anymore. She strokes the final chords ever so gently With the chords as her veins All her efforts now in vain. She hums her final words Except her words bled out of her wrist She finally let it all sink in The song was finally over. The bittersweet symphony echoed in the room But the silence was deafening The tale of heartache and release The heavyweight of all her burdens, All got carried away with the cynical melody.