meta-running

I run through the rain,
rub my eyes with
metaphors until
I'm strumming the
same melody,

repeat these beats
that diminish those
naturals until they
are flat notes that
stack the teardrops

caught in my eyes
can they see what
I hear? do the chords
match the words, show
the tension that stretches

further than ledger lines?
'cause when I write, there's
no limit to the range of
vocabulary heard or
the notes seen scrawled

across torn notes, the flat
verses never did match
the natural chorus
maybe this time, the
remnants will stick

to my ears and I'll be
singing the same melody
that cling to my eyes,
dusty metaphors
running out of time

a/n; I toyed with being a songwriter once upon a time, but I realized that I didn't have the patience to write verses that matched my chorus. And I always loved my chorus, the verses just didn't do them justice. Plus, I'm a horrible singer. So I'll just keep at my free form.