Melodies And Butterflies

The melody is ringing in my ears
It’s deafening. It’s beautiful.
She sang to me at the start of creation.
Her voice still rings in my head.
She tells the stories I write, and becomes my muse.
Why does she only sing to me?
Nobody else could hear the ringing.
They listen, and await her voice, but nothing.
Is this some sick joke?
No, it can’t be.
She made me for this.
The melody is bursting my eardrums.
The blood creates a beautiful pattern on the floor.
A trillion butterflies swirl in the hues of red.
The melody guides them home.
I am home to them.
They crawl back in my ears and whisper dark things in the dead of night.
I’m the only one that can hear.
I scream the melody, hoping someone else might listen.
Nobody responds.
The melody is corrupting my soul.
It’s too loud, but she doesn’t listen to me.
Not anymore.
All I hear is the melody.
It hurts.
The butterflies eat my mind and cause it to rot.
Why won’t they just leave me alone?
They are screaming in my head.
The sounds become one.
Everything is blurry now.
The butterflies won’t let me stop thinking.
The melody won’t let me think.
The melody and the butterflies burn me.
But they know I love the flame.