Pisaries Creator

The piano plays hundreds of chords.
In my mind, I see you clearly.
My hand presses on the jelly filled donut.
Here comes out the berry red flavoring.
Lick my fingers clean.
Press down harder.
Make me feel the pain.
Here I come to see what is wrong.
The untuned black and white keys slant sideways.
No good song comes out of happiness.
The squished donut deserves to be bird food.
In my heart, I beat strong for someone else.
It should have been me all along.
Not you to deserve the five ways of success.
My piano stopped playing any recognizable chords.
All the keys are dead.
Stale donuts don't get eaten.
I remain in sadness.