I only play with my black keys,

My lovely black keys.

The only keys I can trust

Keys I can put my faith in

The white keys don't understand me


The white keys

Play a tune that I find too melodic..

Too frantic of a tone

To truly exemplify

The actual tune I live by


They only seem to play

This harsh façade I carry myself by

A lie that I refuse to hear

That I refuse to let leave my fingers

Onto these keys.


So I stick to my black keys,

Whose sound is somewhat bittersweet

But plays the tune I seem to live by

No false sounds have ever escaped

My black keys


White keys only play the good,

They only sound off

What's beautiful and elegant

But I believe the soundtrack to my life

Is far from "White"


My life is "Black"

shuddered and misunderstood.

Not musically satisfied, but true to its sound.

Harmonized in its complexity,

Leaked by my fingertips


But sometimes,

The white keys help me a great deal.

To play a song without every resource

Is to live life

Through saturated eyes.


So, I don't avoid my white keys,

I simply stick to the black.

The truth of me, the song I illustrate.

The sound my life murmurs.

Until the silent movement  of my fingertips

Can hover over the mute keys

I call "White"


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