I close my eyes as the violin plays.
The strings releasing such a sorrowed sound.
I can hear the sadness radiating from the wooden instrument.
Cries that seem to tell that of struggle.
A singular tear slides down my cheeks.
I feel my heart grow fonder of the music I hear.
I empathize with this instrument.
The violin is playing that of my own struggle.
My heart aches, my fist clenched to my chest.
My story is being told.
