Falcon2001 Posted October 19, 2001 Report Posted October 19, 2001 Silence Holds me down inside like a suffocating blanket designed to confine me inside the folds So I sit in class with eyes of death Watching the other kids, and wondering what they would look like in a coffin Eyes closed Hands folded Or maybe what my entire class would look like In a mass grave would they be packed in like sardines? or jammed in like so much strawberry jelly? So I sit, holding it in and I Wait Until I get home and lay loving hands on my guitar, stroking the countours and drawing my fingers across scratches dear to me and I continue waiting...waiting...waiting for the amp to warm up for my life to reassert itself for the truth to come marching in the door, arms wide open and scream "HERE I AM" for my self-loathing to go away and when the amp is warmed up... that's when I stop waiting and Break Slam the strings with a plastic pick drawing discord into melody and releasing tension in a wonderful flow like exhaling poison gas like stepping out of a noisy factory like getting a backrub after a long day of working so you can afford your only christmas present And as I stand there, my hand flying across the frets of the guitar I sing along to songs I know and songs I wrote myself and songs by people I never knew And that's how my life works... I Wait Then Break CiodenDarkeye Page of The Mighty Pen
Peredhil Posted June 2, 2003 Report Posted June 2, 2003 Powerful commentary on the ability of Art to defuse, whether it be music (as portrayed), or drawing, or writing.
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