As I create from within.
Words dance in my psyche.
A resilient desire to express.
Composing with my fingers.
Then I wonder.
Are my expressions with the connotation of today?
Uncertainty plagues my psyche.
Bewilderment causes chaos.
2nd guessing myself.

Why I create?
I speculate.
Pondering this question.
To the brink of my insanity.
My fingers dance on the keyboard.
Or pencil with my grasp of fingers.
Thoughts become my reality.
I keep on composing.
The words are dancing even faster.
My fingers and mind are intertwined as one.
Strong beats cause dangerous images.
Softer beats bring sweet death.
And there is something between.
Dancing in the reality that is foreign to many.

My fingers are composer.
My mind becomes the sheet music.
Each part is important as one before.
Coming together as one.
Then players play what has been transcribed.
The notes are dancing in the air.
As if was a rain purify the filth,
Washing away the torment within.
Soothing the sores of society.
Beloved melody from your composer.

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