I really like the use of brass in this song, just throwing this out there. I mean, it sounds like a sea chanty from the beginning and then the trumpets come in and it totally hits you and completes itself. I'll try to post it later, if I can figure out if this is very similar to tumblr. Most likely, it will not be.
Maybe I'll just post the video.
I don't feel like punching the wall and shattering my hand anymore, which is a start out of this rut. I'm still enraged over something I'm not even definite about. Tomorrow should be interesting, it really should. Strangely, all I want to do is play an instrument, but I can't because my bass is wrapped up for Christmas and my violin is in school. This always seems to happen to me.
I realized what I don't like about my writing. It never seems to complete itself. I want critique, I want hate, I want disdain. I want to hear about what's wrong with my writing so I can fix it. I've only heard good and I don't like that (Call me strange, but how am I going to get better?).
I haven't titled this poem yet. Open for suggestions. By the way, once you get towards the middle-endish area, if you think you're reading a metaphor for something, it's probably exactly what you're thinking.
"The way you avert my gave.
How your soul darts away.
My heart is flaming,
dense pitch mingles with desperation.
Am I inferior to believe
in some intangible feeling?
Am I weaker
in a dependence to another?
Why do my pleasures
make me ever so different?
Oh, the population squeals
upon their knees.
A king in their eyes.
A peasant in mine.
Your ecstasy sighs,
and all I can do is scoff.
Spread your reign
by word of mouth.
Your betrayal burns,
an infinite memory.
I'll be the one to stop,
your tyranny, failed defiance.
I'll cut you short,
as your pride comes tumbling down."
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