If I can't hear what you're saying it's because there's a choir playing in my brain the soundtrack of my imaginary friends argument amplified through speakers only I can ascertain
and the composition doesn't stop The sopranos screeching with screaming that drowns out the mellow folks the notes that flow the odes of my emotions, devotion to expression in melodies
the choir erases my sanity the faces the agents that mention my depression in minor chords The sore wounds rumbling like thunder attacking the lowest existence with dissonance
The music is the vehicle that drives me to the resort of my major keys An illusion glee,the sounds of a free me restraining my pain in the caves of my brain the clashing that's hiding behind those high rings of vibrato
What I wouldn't give to sing my true feelings,the release the concrete that's blocking my airways, contained in my diaphragm with my plan to eradicate the music for good
I've a choice to let you hear my voice, let the choir sing aloud be proud to show the essance of my heart poured into the art of a poem,my golden lyrics set free,my soul for others to see
Or I can shut them with a noose, cut off their air supply, heads Turing blue as the tune of their confused harmonies dwindle, the armies of my thoughts dead.
But why would I do that when the music is my soul.
My whole reason to be,and I'll gladly let it control me, even if that means the choir won't shut up for me to sleep.
©thatdude27
T