Instrument of the Soul

December 19, 2010
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White and black,
Day and night.
One so cruel to me,
The other my sanctuary.
On the piano, they show no scorn.
Unlike the world that has left me

alone.

I strike a key,
a chord,
a measure.
Expressing my emotions where I could never.
Maybe they will know my loneliness;
Perhaps they will feel my emptiness.
Will they know I just want to belong,
And that’s what I’ve wanted all along?

But


no.

All my work—in vain.
Still no one feels my pain.
I am still alone.
My piano sings the same sad tone.
With nothing to live for,
Each refusal locking another door;

The keys I no longer wish to find,
Like hope I choose to leave behind.

My fingers find a minor chord,
The sound resonating, urging me forward.
My soul cries,
Loathing my ugly disguise.
But the emotions in my heart
Turn to music, like a painting to art.
Every note tells of suffering,
And my soul begins to sing.

If only the world understood me
As music does so e l e g a n t l y.





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