The things I choose not to convey
Unless the tune is right and the ear buds are positioned.
The sound bounces off the walls of my skull
And I take it with super sonic delight.
I rage and I swoon and I mourn to the beat
To last out a thought I never wish to be complete.
It stifles the screams I lock behind my wide spread grin
And make the grip of my hands release.
If I can create the music on my own
I could share or hide with subconscious intentions.
So if I press the notes of a melody to your face
And insist that it portrays certain passages that I've yet to explain,
Please don't look at me with intolerant obligation
Simply because it doesn't suit your taste.
Take it with stride.
Take it with an open mind.
My insight is clearer with the words of others
Who are brave enough to conjour their lips to move.
To let their tongue loosen and flip the bird
At those who are scornful enough to correct their prose.
In my head is music
And my mouth in constant motion to it's sway.
It breaks my my heart in silence
When that music refuses to play.