Stoical Silence

Silence was the theme for the night
Violence of violins was the first delight

Hurt harps joined the terrible serenade
Blurting his thoughts like a grim grenade

Guitars began singing tunes of guilt
Sitars sounding his lost hope's wilt
Dreaded drums echoing sad dreams
Shredded santoors sighing in screams

Tormented tablas of rhythmic beat
Torn apart in the grief of his defeat
Flutes flaunting faulty fanatic tunes
Mute memories buried in time's dunes

Pain painted by piano's performance
Slain smiles  severed in vile penance
Cruised confusions of past left forlorn
Bruised bugles blared their last tone.  

(This poem is not in Iambic pentameter, as I am yet to learn to adhere to the syllabic rules)
Prompted by FormForAll - Framed Couplets  by Beachanny at dVerserPoetsPub.