Poems of Slam

Harp

You told me not to harp on shit 

You said that I pluck the string of the harp 

Just like a sensitive idiot 

Who is slowly falling apart 

You say "stop harping on the past"

When the past is fucking right in front of my face 

When the chains are attached to the harp and my arms 

You say "what about you cut the strings" 

But does it fucking seem like I can 

Because I can't cut the strings when there isn't anything 

To cut it with 

The harp has slowly became a part of me 

The music sheet, taunting 

Taunting me like the past did 

The music sheet that carries and shows the notes 

Of the past has made me miserable and sad 

Don't you see 

I am TIRED of you saying to stop harping 

When I CAN'T control shit

I fear of the past repeating itself 

I call for help 

I really do 

But it's that nobody can cut the strings and chains of 

My harp 

Not because it is attached to my heart 

It's because nobody carries the scissors.