Wretched Song.

Each piece is a molded white,
the black held captive by marbled keys.
Its song is heard night after night,
as she plays out its scorched memories.

We hear the warbled pain,
loud and deafening to our fragile ears,
murderous as the story of Abel and Cain,
and silently deadly as most our fears.

Watch the forsaken bleed,
the stones of white and black,
issuing the cries of agonizing need.
You're a pawn of this soundtrack.

Your concrete fingers paint the pictures dark,
screaming for you to make its mark.