All You Hear Is The Music

The player sits.

Rests his hands above the keys.

Brings his fingers down,

begins to play.

Beautiful melodies fill the air,

yet what does his face say?

That he is sad.

Melancholy,

from some unknown source.

Everyone praises his works,

everyone loves the sounds,

no one understands,

no one really knows.

His music is his getaway.

His music is his release.

He writes to soothe,

he writes to pray.

But all you’ll hear is the Music.

–Notes–

Ryn: I’ve been wanting to leave sarcastic notes to her too, to try to get through to her that what she’s doing is unhealthy. The more I think about it though and the more I read that diary, the more I realize she just wants attention. [*~Advice~*]