Truth in Sound

So much music in my head,
Where fearful few are want to tread.
Sonnet made violent by piano keys,
Bled out on piano wire and heartstrings.
How fingers dance for dichotomous teeth.
How bow string scratches out melody.

I am a pianist where a pen is my piano,
My throat a poorly tuned violin.

My life would silently ebb and abate.
Now Ive found my key.
My life used to be  Shostakovich String Quartet #8.
Now its the Flight of the Bumblebees.
Written by HedonsHerald (Alexander Johnson)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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