I look at the sheets of music
With titles I can’t read
And notes I used to know.
I remember spending hours
Playing and playing,
Until my fingers bled.
Tears were shed,
Papers were ripped,
And threats echoed in the room.
I longed to stop,
To end the torture
That ruled my life.
Yet looking back,
I wish I knew
What I know now.
For the piano is a part of me,
The notes are my words,
And music is my life.
perfectlonelyworld
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