Fingers harden
Strings tightened
Volume up
Tears burning
Am I playing for me or someone else?
Do I just want to drown him out?
I live a fantasy when I strum.
Anger
Pain
Depression
All beaten out through sticks and strings.
Force becomes my friend
Friction becomes therapy.
Lights are out
Tears are rolling
Hands ready
Play is pressed
Everyone disappears.
When the sounds start
He stops....
YOU ARE READING
Pø3ms (Don't judge please)
PoetryMy personal poems. They don't rhyme, so sorry guys. This is just something for me to do for myself. Thank you :)
