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Writer's pictureVictoria Belle-Miller

The Madness of the Record Player


He told me to be beautiful And I willingly acquiesced. He has so much power over my emotions, And I, helpless in my needs, Can do nothing.

I desire to please him, He longs to tear me down. He leaves the record playing all day (long), Imprisoning me with the same sad love song, Of feelings not returned.

My delicate and timid voice is afraid to sing its sorrows. How I need the melody to soothe my aching soul.

But alas you’re a mystery to me. Your beauty and flawlessness amazes me. Your life has been so hard. I know despite your inclinations that you need me. The recognition of that mere fact drives you crazy inside.

It’s all such a violent and dangerous cycle. Oh how you possess me! When I see you something just lets go inside, All of my inhibitions, all those pent up feelings. The past is so easily forgotten. My soul longs to fly (with you), Only you can take me there.

But the unrequited love leaves a tear in my heart, My soft flowing tears are quickly turned to ice by your nonchalant glance, More than the human heart can hold.

So many emotions unfold in the complicated world we create for ourselves. The endless lies and slight breath suspended in the air. I breathe in waves, Some high, some low. I love in phases. How indecisive I can be, How lovely are my dreams. I’d give it all up for them to come true, For reality to make its debut in the fantasy-filled world…

I touched the yielding grass the other day… And I thought of you, Now that I’m free from your binding grasp… Now that I can breathe on my own.

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