The Over-processed Poem.

It starts with a verse about sadness,
Then something to do with the weather.
An emotional tie to the way you broke my heart,
That maybe somewhere somebody feels the same for you.

A terse sentiment about the time,
A bitter anger that's welled up inside.
Attributed to the death of a loved one,
Or the fiery soul in my heart.

I've hated not being the one...
But it's better this way, so much better.

The music played is the music felt,
The music heard is the music wept.
The melodic hammering of a weeping boy.

Yet I have this feeling,
That a right will never stop tomorrow.