*literally dug this up from when I was in slam poetry. I think this was written when i was 13....
There was once a baby boy
With shining eyes
And tiny fingers
He was an angel
In his mother's eyes
But who are we kidding?
He was just another kid
But this kid
This kid was special
His fingers could tickle and flirt
With the piano and produce a melody so sweet and innocent
Yet
Mature with a sprinkle of sorrow
Signalling the hardship and torment of life
His music wasn't about life
His music was life
With his bare hands
He moulded and strung together
An entire universe
Of perfection
And he was the sun
The heart of the solar system
But
Good things
Don't last Long
And that boy
No, a man now
Had woken up to find pieces of
His galaxy falling apart
And that he, the sun, the star,
Was nothing more than
A supernova
Nevermind that he
Couldn't hear
The birds chirp
Nevermind that he
Couldn't hear
The sound of the
waves kissing the shoreline
He didn't care
But he couldn't hear his own voice
The piano in front of him
Was taunting
Reminding him that he had died
The fury built up in the core of
His chest, like magma, gushing out to
The surface
His raised fist came into contact
With ivory keys
And bang!
The meteor shower of symphonies
To the eclipse of the moonlight sonata
Melodies crafted by memories
Slowly,
His world was piecing itself
Together again
Planet by planet
Star by star
As his mind
Pieced together
The sound only a piano could produce
When he hit the keys
With that tempo
With that impact
With that emotion
He realised
That he didn't
Need to hear
To feel
Because he could
Remember each note
Like the back of
His hands
And if you ask
The sun
The stars
The planets
The galaxies
The universe
Ask them about his music
They'll tell you it wasn't about life
It is life
