Music is something I regard with disgust. I forsake it as if it was the only thing I am able to do. I shudder at hums and beat; I feel a passionate dislike towards any rhythm and the tune that comes with it. I would put my earphones on so I could not listen to music. At that moment, I knew I was different.
In a world where souls breathe lyrics, I try hard to survive without breathing one.
But living comes with a monthly package of unwanted surprises; of all the people Eros could have paired me with, he intentionally struck the wrong person. He gave me someone obsessed with strings and drums. Who seemingly eats vinyl for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He is a personified version of a speaker in a promenade that captivates hearts so casually.
Music has always been something I can never tolerate. But for the first time, I sat down in a vacant seat in the fourth row near the exit. It was a mixture of fear and excitement. For the first time, I witnessed someone pluck the strings of his guitar, serenading the crowd with his enchanting voice. He looked at me intently as he performed every line of the song he wrote on his own. To me, it was not just a song but an oath.
Andfor the very first time, I learned to love music.
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The Brain is Never at Rest
PoetryHi. This is a collection of the pieces I wrote for the past years. If some of these sounded or looked familiar, it's because I've posted them in another account I used to go by. Thank you for taking the time to read my work! I hope you'll have a fu...
