Quiet settles on my lips and on my heart,
Not even a sound the dropping pin brings,
Push down and kicked down;
Not even an echo off these strings.
I sit on the couch, not even a sound...
My purple eyes riddled with tears and fears,
Pushed down, punched down;
They laugh at my strings.
She stares at me, stares at me with those strings.
The creeping eerie resonance,
I feel it climb my spine, tapping my shoulder,
But I will ignore it;
What keeps me going are those strings.
It’s because in the sunlight, the gleam bounces of those strings.
No legato sounds nor sounds of air,
Just simply the gleam of the chord.
No one understands that despite the fears
My life relies solely on these strings.
I fall to my knees before her once more.
Her angelic presence is that of redemption,
It forgives them, it forgives me, it forgives us.
How sweet, how soothing, how forgiving these strings.
Those figures, the eerie-ness,
The ashes of unexplained fury.
It cannot destroy these strings.
Those figures, the eerie,
How they disappear;
Because they cannot break me,
The can’t break my strings.
They cannot break me.
They cannot break my music.
They cannot break my intelligence.
They cannot break my diligence.
They cannot break my resilience.
They absolutely failed to destroy me!
All because, they can’t break my strings.