Televise.

Give it up.
You're worth more than a few keys on a piano. 
A few teardrops on a dashboard. 
Drink me in tonight,
Silent reservation to a kingdom of mud.

Clasping everything into your chest,
Sing death.
Sweetly swinging from a noose.

Guilty pleasures account to nought, 
War is in the split second of decision
Echoed by the three million fallen soldiers.

I become another number
In a string of coins
Significance becomes emptiness with the desecration of my soul.

A key clatters on the floor,
Surrounded by falling glass,
I am the droplet of water on your windowsill.
Belonging elsewhere...

As I slowly make my trail down these walls,
A keen eye focuses eternally on my attempts,
The key is swallowed up by my own impossibility

The blood dribbles from my eyes.
A silence reoccurs,
Drip, drip, drip. 
The familiarity reopens closed wounds.

The End

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