staccato notes
play, echoing
the sporadic bursts of pain.
the black notes sear,
the white cause a tear,
black, white, black, white...
rise and fall in orchestrated will.
at least there is music when you play.
there’s only silence when i cry.
written on the same day as Bare - listening to L play the piano on a rather sad day. and the notes must have found their way...
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