Cease
It is not blood that runs through my veins,
but a melody.
My lungs take in not air,
but the sound of a symphony tuning.
My laugh is the trilling of a flute.
My thoughts in 3/4, 4/4, 6/8.
I consume not food,
but the blaring sound of low brass.
I drink not water.
but the liquid sound of a cello played with a bow.
My life depends on music.
Without it-
I
would
cease
to exist.
This poem is about:
Me