Violin

The strings sing as the bow slides against them,

Most don’t believe in the magical words,

the music is What they don’t  understand

It’s your only escape to runaway from the world,

But it’s all true,

The words they say describe exactly how you feel,

The sadness comes and goes with every string the bow glides against,

They don’t see the words you sing,

They don’t see the violin you play,

The bow you keep in your pocket,

You hide the strings behind the sleeves,

Every night you play,

Staring deep into the mirror,

As it the music fades,  

so does your family and friends,

You kept on playing for so long,

You learned every string of veins,

The violin is looking so unneat,

But the violin needs to go,

Even if it’s the only thing you can control,

Don’t you see it's tearing you apart,

Most likely not but they try to tell you,

Your tired of fighting a losing battle,

No matter what you say,

The others know you will win,

They need you to stay and stop playing that Violin,

Take that bow out of your pocket,

Take it out of your little hiding places,

They need you to hold on,

Don’t leave them because your time is not up,

Whatever you do,

don’t let the bow fly against the strings anymore,

It may be hard but you will succeed,

Give it up while you can

Please give up that violin.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
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