For every lullaby, there is a tune
Made jarring with the grim refrain of grief.
I only pray the outro shall come soon
To smooth discordant notes and give relief.
This orchestra of beating hearts controls
My routinary rhythm as I stride
Between the souls that fight the fleshly roles
Society will mandate and decide.
Beneath my clothes, my body is a sheet,
A composition played by devil's hand.
Sonata of the dark warped what was sweet;
My most beloved friend to hell was damned.
My flute cannot reverse a vengeful curse,
But in a better place it can immerse.