Strings

The fiddle gently pulls him under, The cozy sounds of distant thunder. He is but a fool. Seduced by notes from in the sea, As tears to widow’s misery. . Depths of sorrow beyond the tree, A place where sun and sky can’t see. Empty in himself. The centre of the broken clock, Where time... Continue Reading →

Look Up!

You don’t know what it’s like, do you dear reader? It’s horrible! For happiness to be completely dependent on an entity separate from ourselves is torture. I was built to transform emotion into music, yet on my own I’m nothing. I’m a tool; rusting in the corner of an old garage.

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