The Rhythm

The beat of a drum, the beat of a heart, both rhythms keep me from falling apart.

Fingers calloused over from the stings of my guitar, the rhythm oh the rhythm,

keeps me from falling apart.

Cold piano keys, or lively techno beats.

Golden saxophones, and tiny piccolos.

The rhythm, yes the rhythm keeps me breathing, keeps me dreaming.

The rhythm keeps me from falling apart. 

This poem is about: 
Me

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