Babushka
He slid the CD back into it's paper sleeve ... sleeved, is that even a word? did it even matter. He put it on the ever growing stack of rejected demo's and slipped the next into his player. Sleeved, rejected, next, sleeved, rejected ... He didn't think it would be this easy to crush dreams, he sighed, sleeve them perhaps. Sleeved, rejected.
One little spot. Burns him.
He works on this computer day after day, it's never tortured him before.
One little spot, bright white against his screen. Why do they call it burnt out when it's really releasing a tiny sun?
Tick tock, tick tock, the wrath of the clock.
Over and over she hummed these words tuelessl.
I want to hurt her. T crush her skull for some peace.
Shut UP!
SHUT UP!
How quaint she's invoked my wrath over her stupid rhyme.
I'm sorry little sister. I'm sorry.