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

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