yellow flowers blooming in a vacant lot
Lunatic Tune
Brenda Medina

I lean onto my own understanding and stumble down into a wilderness of pain.
Pointy branches cling and hinder me like the many hands I left helpless.

Stop this lunatic tune!
Now I tread against this austere wind; the chorus of haunting whispers.
The beating of the drum mocks my heart’s palpitations.
This screech –the sound of a violin mimics my desperate gasp for air.

I ought to spark these majestic woods into a blaze of hell!

Spare me from this orchestra
Oh wretched pride of mine.
…music’s not as amplified,
The weakening tempo…
The final gong.