The lyrics speak when I could not
My fading voice, my throat caught
My silenced, muted, unheard pleas
My point of view they'll never see
The melody, it revives
My body that is half alive
A prodigy that hates to thrive
I don't care if I don't survive
The beat is one wit my heart
A rhythm that won't fall apart
The meaning is one with me
Finally, someone heard my pleas
Songs, they understand
Just like a best friend
The lyrics flow in my blood
It also makes my eyes flood
Songs
Do they speak for souls?
Souls
Do they act for songs?
I could have lost too much of myself
To morph into the image of a song
Songs could have been stripped, dissected bare
To fit in a world where meanings go unnoticed
Is it scary
That I'm a living host of a song?
Or is it sad
Songs are underappreciated?
One thing is certain
Both need each other
Song with no soul is plain
Soul with no song is dull
A/N
MUCH BETTER
YOU ARE READING
Ebony Snow And Ivory Holes
Poetry((Previously known as Bleeding Darkness)) Grasping reality. Ignoring the world. Embracing fantasy. Running from the voices. A tragicomedy, The world is; With happy-go-luckies And sad cynics. Confusing thoughts are tossed back and forth, In the mind...
