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”Anna”

The never ending question arises

”Can money buy happiness?”

I sit and ponder about my empty pockets

And i think to myself ”no”

 

It is bitter cold out

I am barely clothed appropriate for this gloomy weather

My stomach pangs at the smell of the corner bakery

My hunger sounds louder than the thunder surrounding me

 

If one were in my torn and ancient shoes

They would probably do almost anything

For a crumbled bill of green

For that one ticket to a satiated feeling

 

I am not everyone else

I am a broken musician

My chords are locked away with my soul

My reason for breathing has shifted

 

And so I sit here

Bathing in G-d’s shower

Wondering when I will ever see her again

My smooth wooden ”Anna”

 

She was my entertaining and loving universe

My broken heart and frost bitten finger tips are worn

From the hours of attention I would pay her

What I wouldn’t do to hear her hum her melancholy tune

 

When she fell apart

So did I

Her in the literal sense

Me in theory

 

I refused to obtain a new instrument

For nothing can replace her

Or the sweet lullaby i used to make with her

Only her

 

To answer the query

It takes someone like I

To fully comprehend

What is the true definition of happiness

 
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Posted by on November 17, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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