The aim here is chilling. Notes at bottom, please enjoy.
Hymns of the Heartbroken
Twilit eyes transfixed,
empty gazes hung on repetitive sights, weary and bored,
bored of the faces of the privileged few,
those with all the luck and all the love;
twilit eyes transfixed, those eyes of the less fortunate,
caught on evil glances of those lucky ones
hollowed out by arrogance,
carrying calmly on,
deaf to the hymns of the heartbroken.
A graveyard for the fallen,
there stand the others, the less fortunate,
there to remember, to make sense,
carrying the dying torch of those thrown to the wayside.
The haunting cries of lonely souls,
they resound in their hearts, helping to carry on,
bearing the burden of an unjust world.
Stung by the cold, those lonely souls
lay down their own,
their echoing
hymns of the heartbroken.
A benevolent heart,
more poised to break than any other,
sits quietly on the threshold of satisfaction,
never to cross;
it beats in rhythm
with the desires of others around it
guiding its path through the snow
that falls around the light of its hope.
A tool for use it will always be,
subject to whims which hold no gratitude.
That luck and that love
they stand with the support of the heartbroken,
forming the crutch that props
those arrogant few.
A stagnant mist fills the seldom-trod path to their hearts,
knowing only that which they want
and receive,
and so they shuffle on
towards their gilded throne.
The fall from grace,
the crutch at last pulled out, a dark cloud falls
over the privileged as they realize their folly
only on the way down,
the light slowly fading.
The most fleeting of moments,
a path in the snow opens,
gone, all too quickly,
closed to the undeserving
who at last hear the cries of those lonely souls
and take their final breath of happiness.
The pain of a love lost,
the calm waves of a distant shore sing of such.
Such a pain, lost on those who have yet
to find love at all.
A graveyard for the fallen,
there lie the once-privileged, longing for another chance,
crying out as the fog envelops them.
There, to remember, carrying the dying torch of those thrown to the wayside,
stand those lone souls,
deaf to the hymns of the heartbroken.
A/N: Well, I should probably explain this. As I wrote it, I couldn't get the thought of Mugen and Sara out of my head. I've always said that because of their distinctive personalities, none of the three are ever meant to be together, only with people with whom they identify (MugenxSara, JinxShino, FuuxKinsuke). Sara said once that she and Mugen both had the same aura, of one who had never been loved, and each in their own way, I think both has an inherently good heart that is damaged or taken advantage of during the course of the series. The main theme of this poem was to show that even though Sara died, the privileged so full of arrogance will get what's coming to them. Sort of a karma theory. I like it a lot.
Also, for any fans of Affluent Anarchy, please fear not. I'm so sorry I haven't updated in ages, but I'm halfway done with the next track and I will very soon resume updating. Please come back to me!
And that's all. Please let me know what you thought of this and I hope you enjoyed.
Oh, and yes, this title was taken from the track name involving Mugen and Sara. Go figure.
LL