Flipping through the list of songs
To find the one I want
I come across one I have forgotten
And allow its tale to play
Only to find that I
Feel like I can sympathize -
Am I, too, a
The melody runs through one ear
And out the other
But its words glue deep in my brain
I'm listening and finding
The hidden words within
Asking for someone to hear it completely,
Not throw it off to the side...
The tune grabs a brush and begins to paint
Finding an empty space on the crowded easel...
Beautiful colors fall from the softened brush
In strokes that go from bold and strong
To dulled and slowed
The colors are faded and the picture is
I tried to find the message within
But as quick as it started, it silenced
The list pushed on to the next
The words of this song grew hazy in my mind
And I stared blankly ahead.
Unlike the song, I never bothered any more
To pick up a utensil and portray
The feelings that I had dwelling within
For I knew that I was but just a song...
This time, now, I pick up a pen
And I allow words to flow from my hands
Though my hands create them, my heart produced them
But it was too shy to speak...
Relying on my hands to deliver the message instead
And my loyal hands going straight work...
This set of prose,
The song I played,
The feelings I feel,
One day it will come to pass...
We will all become nothing more than