Slowly losing his breath
Turning blue
It is too cold to play, but he does anyways
Music is the most important thing
It is his number one
Everyone told him “get a real job”, or “make something out of yourself”
But he didn’t care
How could they understand?
He loved his music so much,
He would die for it.
After years of trying….years of failures and trials
This is how it ends?
“I don’t need another job.” he used to say
“My music is good enough”.
They tried to dissuade him…
To discourage him…
Those that told him he wasn’t good enough
Those that tried to help.
To put him back into reality
To get his head out of the clouds.
But no…..he never listened
But eventually he realize, with his last breath.
They…were right.