Rimshot, Flam, Paradiddle, Rest.

I am a music note.

Delicately placed

On the lined staff of a treble clef

Ready to escape these ebony bars that define

Me.

 

My face is written all over these one - way streets.

                        E         

                C                 

        A                         

F                                 

 

No.

I am more than a splatter of ink on a lily-white sheet.

No.

I am the light of the moon seeping through windows,

In the midst of all that is dark.

When the morning sun turns to a gloomy black and white,

I am like the miniscule dash of yellow that resists to fade.

No.

These bars do not define

Me.

 

One and a

Two

Three and

Four.

 

I wish I was a whole note in a cadence

With a four-four time signature

Why, they live the longest.

They emulate the passion inside me that roars on

Trying to find a home to call its own

Because a home is different from a house.

 

And these bars are

Not

My

Home.

 

In ways, however,

I am like a fermata.

Holding out the glory inside me

For all to see.

To entertain.

But I don't want to rely on the interpretations of others.

Who is to say when I cut off

I want to shine above the others.

To be different.

No.

I am different.

 

They say the caged bird sings,

But it is I, who truly

Sings.

For the bird sings the essence of my inner being

 

I am a work of art in acapella.

I am who I am.

Not relying on the accompaniment of others.

And that, is all I shall ever persist to be.

 

-M.E.