Take the bow to the strings, press it down and play,
Ensure the chord is right and you're in tune.
Keep playing this instrument until you feel relief,
You'll find the music calming, until you cannot create anymore.
You fill yourself with emptiness and hope the hunger will subside,
The musics gone and so are you, and somehow that emptiness
Is a comfort that you aren't quite completely numb,
But that's just a lie, really, isn't it?
YOU ARE READING
An Amalgamation of Words
PuisiI'm almost as bad at writing descriptions as I am at writing poems, but at least I tried. Sharing my inner turmoil, one poorly worded sentence at a time.
