Is This All My Hands Can Do

by Skye

Wipe the dead skin from these keys,
So I can start this one off clean.
Let me introduce the scene,
Act 1, scene 1, a baby grand with broken strings.
Enter stage left a drifter, lost and foraging.
And in his hand a notebook filled up with his out-of-tune musings
He turns a page and he plays and sings this song.

Five billion suffering while I sleep underground,
Always en route to the next goodbye.
A mother slaps her child but the kid don't make a sound!
And to my surprise neither do I.

So I'll just cut out my tongue and rip out my lungs,
'Cause they're useless and atrophied,
And I'll fly them like kites applauding their sacrifice.

Have I gone insane?
Dreaming of hijacking this train,
Tears stream as I accelerate,
To speeds where time willingly dilates,
And I'll watch this world die through these windows!
It's blurring but I still see people who could use my help.
So I reach out!
But I'm moving too fast,
So I cry loud!
I can't hold my grasp.

With no home, my only keys are these yellowed ivories,
And I'll ask them rhetorically,
Is this all that my hands can do?