This is written for those with parents like mine

Composers

I call them what they are:
composers
their tension breaks
the piano strings
but still they play
the harsh chords
of this symphony
a battle between Bach
and Beethoven
anger splayed 'cross their faces
like war paint
they duck and weave
threading strands of hate
through the bar lines
in 4/4 time
four bitter words to each measure
the audiance holds their breath
anxious for the final note
but it never comes
like a music box
wound infinitely tight

He was always such a user
and she was his cocaine
he found that when he used her
she took away his pain

He was always such a stoner
her name was Mary J
he was always running out of her
but still she let him stay

He was always tying off his veins
to inject her part by part
she could melt his icy bloodstream
but never reach his heart

He always called her his ecstacy
made made him think he was in love wth her smile
but nights of delights only last until
the light comes and he's gone again for a while

He was always such a user
but she always let him stay
and he didnt fail to use her
until she had wasted all away