one chord, then the next, and another.
a piano is full of small melody's placed into one.
one moment, then the next, and another.
life is just the same as that piano ballad.
sometimes it just comes to you so nicely and clean,
others it takes a turn into a corner where I become stuck.
The piano cannot speak only in a way certain people can understand. a murmured speech sorto say.
YOU ARE READING
when my lighter drops
Puisihow i feel, how i felt, the way i write. small things i talk about in my mind
