sometimes,
i want to
break it.
break it into
a thousand - no
a million
pieces.

sometimes, it
helps me. but
not most of the
time.

i want it
to be splinters
and jagged pieces
and broken metal
laying
on the ground
but
then
they would get mad.

i don't
want
them to be mad.
but
i want to
break
it.

until
it is
nothing
but broken
old wood
and twisted
strings
i won't
stop.

oh,
to pick it
up and down,
bring it
down, down
onto the floor
with a
crash
a beautiful
sound;
music
in its last moments

i'm not resting.
it won't
be over.
it's a shame
i actually
like it
too.