Sol Feg Blank

How accurate
That interval I could never hear.
Who knows better than I
My fear of man-made interludes.
You all applaud my voice
In its whisper of that minor scale
Yet you do not know my desire
For such continuity of ascension,
A need for a life
That follows this pattern.
I cannot dictate two lines
Meant to be one ringing melody
When I never learned
To blend myself in this way.
I can promise
To give you a reason to be proud
If you can promise
To staunch the inevitable flinching
At the dissonance in my singing.
How to be harmonious

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