my veins are the strings of a violin
yearning so desperately to be played
by that sharp silver bow
knowing that every stroke is one more scar
every cry is the music that my broken symphony of a body releases as a call
a call for help, a call for safety
every breath is music that my ears crave and
my orchestra has just begun
the drums in my chest begin to play a tune i’m way to familiar with
the cymbals in my head crash with every beat
my legs shake from every vibration
the symphony has started
i reach for my bow so i can begin
i start with a tune thats comfortable
eager to release my energy i play
and with every stroke my symphony slows
the cymbals stop crashing
the drums fade
and the orchestra has come to a stop
i release my bow and look at what i have created
i read the lines on my skin like lines of sheet music
the songs of sadness have stopped and im finally at peace
i know the consequences of being a composer
but my art is so addicting

She's the artist of love
She creates every piece of art
By getting a tiny piece of her heart
Every song are words
That echoes from her spirit
Every stroke of brush
Contains a song from within
Every poem she writes
Has the color of her paint
Every story she tells
Has the verse of her soul
She's an artist in love