Record Player

My brain

is like a record player

of old songs

I listen to ceaselessly.

I have a massive compilation

of both upbeat and melancholy tunes

I listen to on a daily basis

from sunset to sundown.

Some songs make my heart sing,

some songs incinerate my soul.

Some songs put me to sleep,

some songs make me restless as a racing pony.

The words I’ve read and written

are the lyrics

of each tune I play constantly.

The sounds I’ve heard

are the instruments

that are being used

in the background.

My brain

is like a record player

of stories, fables and folktales

I read aloud to myself.

They can either put

a huge, scrumptious, sweet smile

on my face

or transform me

into a miserable, grumpy woman

who hides under the covers all day.

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