Soundtrack of My Soul

In the morning,

it's classic.

Mozart, Bach, Tchaikovsky.

Whatever the sky calls for,

the radio plays.

By midday, it's indie.

Things pick up.

There is still a calmness.

But a discomfort pulses and its echoes bounce from wall to wall.

By the afternoon, pop plays.

The beat is faster.

The bass rings in my ears.

My feet are exhasuted from their jumps.

My arms, tired from swinging around.

By the time the night is over,

I can only hear screams.

And it ties in perfectly with my nightmares.

In my dreams,

music wraps itself around me.

I dance my way through the crowds of familar faces,

all too real and all too fictional,

all too good and all too evil.

I begin to dive into a different rythym,

and my mind becomes envelloped in things which

my heart longs for to happen.

I try to forget about my regrets.

I leave them for my heart.

It alone can figure it all out.

My soul on the other hand,

it's one way in the morning,

another in the afternoon,

and completely destroyed by the evening.