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Changes
I'm trying to grow. To morph. To change.
I'm trying to become a better person.
Sometimes I think its impossible.
Sometimes I feel its my only choice.
Music is still the sweetest release.
My fingers caress the bass strings; rage is gone by the pounding of drums.
Anger. Resentment. Sadness. Joy.
All are expounded upon beautifully by my predecessors.
I hide in my music to start the day.
I fall asleep to orchestras in the black of night.
So beautiful. So fragile. So powerful.
These songs mirror the arbitration of my soul.
I remember years ago when I said people are stupid.
I feel so ashamed.
In those dark days I danced along the line of misanthropy
filled with self loathing, plagued by doubt.
Now I feel hope, even in this tiny room.
I know one day I'll be free.
Free to chase dreams. Free to make love. Free to live again.
I wonder if the changes I've made are for the better
or merely a way to continue to delude myself
singing a ballad of the most trite of themes:
love lost, love found.
Found by my mother, sister, brothers, others.
Lost in the ash box of my father.
I wonder if I'll get to scatter them by the ocean
as he always said he wanted
Able to hide my secrets in the wind.
