My Song

So I tried my hand at writing a poem of sorts. I'm not a literature guru, and I'm pretty sure this poem doesn't follow any poem logic. There's no a+b=c here. But let me know what you think.

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Finally home, a hard day with the family. The house sits, still, in darkness. I am alone.

The silence is addictive. I sit, motionless on the couch, staring at my laptop screen. It plays the softest of music. It is my song. But there is peace.

My thoughts are mellow. My muscles relaxed. My phone turned off. Cool water in hand.

The gentle beat of the music gives my breathing rhythm. I am alone, but I am happy. I simply exist.

But then you interrupt me. Your presence drags on my heart like a couch being dragged along floorboards.

How did you find me. I want to know, but I care not to ask. Your voice in my head drowns out my song. It is not soft.

The rhythm is gone. My muscles become tense. Simple, basic thoughts have turned to anxiety. I cannot cope.

I run. Both physically and mentally. My mind is scattered. You have caught me off guard.

My breathing, once rhythmic and easy is now not. It hurts. It pushes out air as quickly as it takes it in. You have taken over me.

I run faster, but time catches up on me. I am exhausted. Deep breaths. The worry has not passed.

I am alone. The only constant I know. The air is still and quiet, but I am not at peace. There is nothing calming here.

I return home. My breathing slowing down. I smile. I am fine. But I am not. Like the facade of peace in the night air I am not what I seem.

I am alone. I sit, staring at myself in the mirror. I know this person, but he has changed. His song has lost its rhythm.