Drumming that echoes deep within your chest
Awakens an urge that makes your skin scrawl
As your blood thickens into ice that pierces through your thoughts
Which implode inside the minefield of your mind
Whilst the shrapnel wounds your heart that bullied the stomach
Behind a facade of adrenaline you've grown to hate
Like a tree planted upon barren ground that knows
Its only escape is the sun-scorched soil itself
When the stubborn rain won't leave its cloud of sighs
Now as bitter as Adam's apple
And instead pummles the porcelain mask which begins to crack
Yet under the spotlight it's nothing but a scratch
That rips through the skin of the drum which incessantly beats to the rhythm
Of cricket's wings under summer's sunset.
