Making of a Melody

I think I'm going insane,

In this single file lane,

Holding this song,

All day long,

This tune in my head,

Repeating like a CD,

Over and over again in me.

It's screaming out,

Waiting for me to shout,

The lyrics,

Of the hysterics,

That's simply amazing in my own way.

It's a beautiful song,
That I haven't thought about in so long,

Pieces by part,

All from my heart,

This is my thing,

That's making me sing.

It's haunting me like a gloomy cloud,

Making that rhythmic sound,

That beat,

I think I'll make the m.e.l.o.d.y.

The notes are coming together,

It's timing and such is rather clever.

I can't keep it in any longer,

To this song, I'm growing founder,

I think this is my best work yet,

But I could be wrong—let's make a bet.

It's like something coming over me,

Like a communicable disease,

I don't want it to cease,

Coming from who-knows-where,

But, whoever is giving it,

I now spill out to admit,
I don't want it to end,

I no longer want to fend,

Against this miraculous, gifted earworm,

It's making me somehow squirm,

It's infecting me,

Giving me the key to this wondrous imagination,

I never knew it had such expectation,

I'm making new things,

Putting together melodies and words, clicking like a small bell with a ting,

Making me blind from the ordinary sight,

I can only hear this earworm buzzing inside my head,

Wanting me to be the subject that wants to be fed.

Physically, making me write it down,

Smiling along the way, like a demented clown,

I'm proud of this masterpiece,

It'll probably get responded to the least,

But, it doesn't really make a difference to me,

Because this is the making of a melody.