Ballads (James Rustic)

As each groove of the needle slowly spins around,
Emitting memories of old with their reverberating sound,
We are solemnly reminded of the years gone by
And forced to succumb to each tear that we cry.

For as each ancient melody begins to humbly blare
We confront our damaged souls, desperate for repair,
To overcome the bitterness of all our lost romances
Which each note of the song unmercifully enhances.

Suffering through each relapse, we fight back the tears,
Shuddering at the thought of the forthcoming years,
Which to others may hold plentiful hope and promise,

But for us, there is nothing but the emotions we despise
That our one chance for love may have flittered away
As we are tormented by the ballads in our heads that play.