My song keeps playing

playing and playing,

never stopping

never faltering.

The message

never changes.

It keeps on going

without end.

Notes echo

and instruments jingle

across the ballroom

filling its empty

gloom. As I fill

my wine glass

with the sweet

red liquid. And sip

it as the song runs

through my veins.

The tune awakens

the dust that settled

on the altars made

for each old friend of mine.

I keep trinkets

to remind me

of every beautiful note

they ever sang -

sixteen

and there will be another.

When the song grows

quiet

I rise from my chair.

I walk and walk down

into the cellar

to check on my friend

He sits in the corner.

"What happened

to the music?"

I ask

He sits and stares

I tune him

with my blade

and song returns

louder

and sharper

than before

as he begins

to bleed out

As his shackles jingle,

"Help," he sings