[cyph her]

Topic: You’re a homeless musician who plays outside of a train station for tips. One day, someone leans over and drops something unusual into your case.

“The One That Got Away”

They hear the hymns echo the tunnels..
And didn’t know it was she that he couldn’t let go..
A certain breeze that had cut his throat..
Brang him to his knees and relieved this note..

“The one that got away”…
It was so somber upon his lips daily..
So much pondered upon it’s failure..
And so much was certain about the way he’s..

So abstract and yet discerning..
Likewise fallible and so observing..
A palate of such desertion..
So essentially.. not getting a word in..

A neighborhood of pillars he embraced..
Stringing cords and watching fingers dance..
On occasion being recognized for his melodic grace..
Something so simple.. An unforeseen glance..

A shadow of which compared to others..
Dropped something odd into his case..
It was odd it had replaced..
Anything that had awed into the chase..

Of a new beginning based on this card..
It read “Second Chance”..
How do you play?
More importantly, how do you advance?

The back read like three tasks..
And each one of them read complacent..
Accomplishing each task with ..
Adjacent conversations…

I’ll dually comply, and I don’t know why I do..
Walking a lady and her groceries across the street..
I can do that..
I don’t know why one wouldn’t comply to..

Feed a homeless man, that is myself..
And I myself need that..
As I listen to my stomach grumble..
Found someone else more deserving and I will relieve that..

Finally, I am being asked not to be an ass..
I suppose it really knows me..
Years underground, playing this sound..
Imposes a real feat..

I want a second chance..
A reason to dance and be happy again..
A new reason to wake up..
A real reason not to be forsaken..

Clock strikes 8..
I roll over in bed and find a witness..
It is her and I get to live again..
Because I made someone else besides me my business..