Junkyard Piano

By Paradoxology

~ Junkyard Piano ~

The house of horrors, full of mirrors, fortune of the summer fair
Hear the back door bursting open, see the child running scared
Running from the charlatan, the face in each reflection there
No one cared or noticed as he fled alone and disappeared

Following a hidden path he’d learned about from mockers hate
To reach a small abandoned junkyard, once a church of martyr’s faith
Walking towards a tattered grand piano on the misty stage
He sat upon a simple bench of nailed boards and crimson stain
There he stayed ’til songs of sorrow came

Shards of shattered stained glass panes were strewn across the ivory keys
But still the child began to play until his hands began to bleed
Until his fears began to stray, until his heart flowed out in streams
Spilling blood and poison through his shredded fingers lost in dreams

Notes of love met chords of rage with violent impassioned strain
The frailty and magic in a tragic mournful symmetry
The sadness of unceasing waves of anguish crushing deep within
On and on ’til only peace remained

The keys were soaked in scarlet red, the final note was held sustained
A dying breath entwined unto his only wish forever gone…

It was finished!

He tumbled to the godforsaken stage and felt the last refrain
Of silence bound to darkness in a sweet duet of faded pain
Serenading she to whom his human heart belonged...

A homeless girl in dirty clothes, in tears she quietly approached
To where his body lay in death, at rest beside the fallen bench
Kneeling down in prayer she found a fractured square of deepest red
Then tenderly she took his hand and whispering she softly said,

“Upon this glass your blood was shed, child of my jaded heart condemned
So by this glass my wounds shall mend, I'll follow you, my only friend
Wait for me in heaven, far away”

And with his songs still echoing through halls in the unfolding mist
She slid the jagged edges of the glass across her gentle wrists
The cruel cold released her as she clothed him in her weak embrace
Their wedding bed a pool of blood so warm in the piano’s shade

Hear the demons damn their souls for spitting in survival's face
See the angels shroud their open grave in love's immortal grace
United in the deepest sleep
A time of joy for all who weep

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2017 Paradoxology
Published on Sunday, November 5, 2017.     Filed under: "Love" and "Poetry"
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Comments on "Junkyard Piano"

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  • A former member wrote: As a piano player, the title drew me in, and my eyes were serenaded by written beauty. This is unparalleled, darlin'. Rebs:).

  • Paradoxology On Monday, January 15, 2018, Paradoxology (14)By person wrote:

    Thanks rebs, always wanted to learn piano/keyboards myself but don't have the memory for it. About all I can handle are power chords on guitar, and, I'm pretty sure “Junkyard Guitar” would've been the wrong way to go with this idea...

  • worm On Sunday, November 5, 2017, worm (1194)By person wrote:

    this is a great story! it pulled me in and i was sorry the ending came so fast... there are so many side stories in this... really, this is very well done! Kudos! ~worm~

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