Dawns early light through the window seep,
Rousing the still form from his stream of sleep.
Another day, another chance to be better?
Well that is the hope beneath the days of latter.
The music, its rhythmic tune so familiar,
And the dance follows, its pattern just as similar.
It seems to never change, like a broken record on a stereo.
Repeating its strains so painfully clear.
Who would have thought that the skilled composer,
Will write out his story in awfully odd notes like a complete loser.
Nothing like the beautiful pieces pre written.
Rather woeful accidentals that are gut wrenching.
But hopefully to that still form dancing to the tune,
The sun will set again,
So his tired feet may their strength regain.
And he can be thrust to his realm of dreams,
Where his life piece echoes the beautiful tune,
A tune his very reality dims.
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/53780914-288-k595490.jpg)
YOU ARE READING
The Composer's Piece [COMPLETED]
Poetrythe melody defines his soul.... the lyrics are his life.... His very essence entwines with the instruments he wields.... His very soul is a reflection of what his hand traces.... Take a trip down the life of this composer's piece. Hopefully it won't...