Broken Record
There are scratches on the vinyl.
It used to play such sweet music—
Mozart and Beethoven
Tchaikovsky and Bach
Throw in some John Lennon
and Michael Jackson
But now
the crack down the middle
makes it sound
distorted and strange.
Ode to Joy sounds like Jaws
Billie Jean is a murder victim
and I am the record
playing over and over
skipping a beat
missing the music
because I am stuck in my head
Repeating
Repeating
Repeating
Die
Die
Die
and now the song is ending.
The critics have written their reviews.
2 thoughts on "Broken Record"
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this poem moved and startled me so much I just want to ask “are you o.k.?”
I appreciate the concern. 🙂 I’m fine, but I wasn’t always. My dark places breed most of my poetry, so I apologize if it unnerved you. I find it therapeutic to release my emotions through my words.