dead wood and cold metal
a piano sitting in a corner of a shadowy room
a dusty oboe laying on a faded sheet of music
they are memories of something i barely remember
he shoved my talent into the bag he packed
the night they came to drag him away from us
these objects are foreign to my hands
once extensions of my limbs, coursing with my soul
are now just dead wood and cold metal in my room
i’m trying to find my muse but she is locked up
trapped in a cage far away from here never to return
they say i still have it, the fortitude and gift
but it was lost the night they dragged him away
holla! a music poem! i love it tho, the sadness emanating from the instruments, i like pictures of melancholy associated with music. someone i know wrote a poem that had a line like “august was in a minor key” and i thought that was by far the coolest idea id ever heard. lol.
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