A forlorn voice
Captured and echoing
Over the lo-fi tapping of drums
Like rain on a closed sunroof

Sitting, belted in, staring up
The drops reach earnestly for your eyes
Or rather, their kin
Which stream down your aching cheeks
Turned acrid from your misery

Life has been muted and distant
Like the music from the stereo
Ever since they left
Their murmur haunting you
Like the deep rhythmic hook of the tune

As the notes soften more and more
You pray your memories of them fade
An ample, but worthy expense
Though sadly, unable to be conferred

For who could gain from these thoughts?
Stagnant reflections of shortcomings
Serving only to drown you
No sunken treasure for them to plunder
Only broken hearts and wasted time
As a lo-fi symphony plays
Ebbing itself and any silver linings
Into the coaxing patter of the rain



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