Cold breeze from the dark palm tree with no shadow beneath the twilight, he stood there in the middle of the night. With the resplendent gleams over the moon, he waled down the street, heart’s blue and aching for the longest time he could ever remember. The night was quite, there was only silenced disquietude and uncanny solitude circling over the town. As he walked home with the headache and dizziness he had inside, he looked down into his own shadow, emanated by the street light. He stumbled into one thing that he soberly knows that he loved the most, a piano. Somehow it was there, like the universe told him to pour his despair and despondency into lines of melodies. As the time goes by and he sat on it, his fingertips were trembling bad, not ready about the uncertainty he could face in a moment. All these times he was smiling because he got to play a song for his lover on their home, but the time changed so quickly while he tried to hanging himself by a thread. He fell. He fell down as the steady beat of his cries goes down on the key of the piano. With the first breath he sobs, he poured it all in such idyllic way. Still, there were sadness and blue all over, resonating around the quite town while everyone was not there. In the silence, he built up melodies that leads him to spill everything he felt. It was heart-wrenching, no one shall be able to get it through. He gave all of him, and he asked for nothing more than receiving back of his lover. He thought it was all about trust, but he clearly failed to be the best soldier on the ground. When the morning comes, he’s done with kicking off the uncanny. When the sun comes up, he’s done despising himself, and all the aligned rhythms of his performance shall be recorded in the back of his head, capturing all emotions deep within.