My Music is My Own
Striking sounds and plated teeth Fills the air with gloom… Plucking tones and mournful play Saturates hollowed halls and tombs Single fingers and unskilled moves Pound the ivory slow… Gracious ears and lonely hearts Move nails and glances away The lone music plays through To even ears, gibberish and mirth To odd, none beauty beheld Purpose naught caught by doctors and players Yet to me. Plucking is my load My mind fills in the blanks My fingers find true my tunes Matched for my soul And still, now Alone with me Allow me to lie though not golden polish, My music is my ownWrote this kinda in class. Written April 9th, 2002 © on Apr 09 2002 03:49 AM PST 18 • 0 • 1
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"Striking sounds and plated teeth..."