There are songs,
and there are tragedies.
Choral memoried narrations,
chiral self-reflections,
distortions in brittle antimony.
Trailing lines of thought
in unresolved harmony.
To fade and unravel
as from a cocoon, a thraldom.
A song of love, shriven.
A song of hate, forgiven.
To emerge, unfeeling,
deaf to the world's mysteries,
unlike a child.