There is singing in my heart
Ahmad Cox
Ahmad Cox
Apr 29, 2012

There is singing in my heart
Singing in my mind
A voice
A song
That helps me through the day
Keeps me dancing
Keeps me whole
Keeps me moving
To make it through another day

iced something was wrong when I stopped singing. This was my outlet, my way of expressi
Angie Acuña
Angie Acuña
Feb 25, 2013

I noticed something was wrong when I stopped singing. This was my outlet, my way of expressing all of my feelings. Everything I had ever thought was brought to life by song. Then I stopped, and it was all your fault. No song seemed to describe how I felt about you. I liked you. I hated you. I adored you. I cursed you. But most of all, I loved you.

So I started writing. To cover up my feelings with metaphors and similes that nobody but me understood.

I've thought about showing you these writings. I knew you would understand them. You were so much like me. You knew my thoughts better than I did. But I was scared. Scared to show you how I felt because like you with the world, I was scared that you wouldn't accept me.

When I became aware of this, how I felt, I became distant. I didn't want you to see how I had grown to love you. I knew you would. You were like me. You knew something was wrong and when you asked me about it, I avoided you even more. This hurt me so much more than I think it did you.

I stopped singing. This one dead spark is what lit up a whole new world of mysteries and confusion about you and me alike. That was it. One simple thing.

I stopped singing.

I guess I'm not really over this.
Nik Bland
Nik Bland
Nov 9, 2012      Nov 10, 2012

If my heart could rip apart and make a song for you
I would have enough to make the words using scissors and glue
And each piece of my heart would drip, not with blood, but passion warm like June
I only pray whoever sang wouldn't fail to be in tune

The rhythm would no be from a heartbeat, but in the steps I take
Each of which go through hill and dale to see that love, they make
The pace is good, the timing now, you wait for me to sing
But not until you know this song intimately through it's recipe

And I would give you all these things if you'd only give it a voice
A melody that flows and winds, laughs and cries, a choice
To dedicate to such a song until our dying day
And with the combined bits of separate hearts, a song would be played

Singing is my way out.
Apr 17, 2012

Singing is my way out.
It's like breathing.
It's natural to me.
I know I'll never make it big,
But I can't stand not trying.
You just have no idea how much I want this.
It's killing me.

singing his heart out today
Monica Adams
Monica Adams
Apr 28, 2012

i saw a young black man
singing his heart out today
in the parking lot of an overused grocery store.
he was singing and singing
but no one would listen.
i myself just kept walking by.

i saw a women walking a goat
in the apartment complex behind my house.
she waved at me
but i was more concerned about the black man
in the parking lot of a fancy grocery store,
all by himself.

singing feels so *natural* to me.
Wistful Wanderer

Like a scientist in his lab
and an artist at his easel,
singing feels so natural to me.
Shaped phrases and the building crescendos
swirl into a cacophony of sound
that gives me euphoria.
The blending and bending of harmonious voices
call out to me saying,
"This is passion."
I will never stray from this passion of mine.
Never ever.

I live because of singing
Feb 6

I love to sing
And that's not a bad thing because
I have my mothers voice
I live because of singing
I have had moments in my life
When all I  couldn't function
Without music ringing from my throat
Many people have told me that I sing well
And I take it to heart
I enjoy bring people pleasure
Though my music

A vine
A wanting, loving vine
is buried deep inside

The way the vine curls
Depends on the day
Sometimes towards the bright disk of eternity
Other times to the enchanting dusk

Once a day
I let it free
The vine wraps a soothing embrace
Around my soul
As my cords vibrate
Forming a sweet vibrato
A solemn alto
A clear soprano
To nothing but my own head

Finding my sound
The vine finding its crutch  
Trying to climb its way
To the top
But still unrecognized
And hidden

With singing along, no answer at your door.
Justin Surgent

I've never felt lonely
So long as music has been playing
Until I went outside, and smoked alone
To come home and heard it playing
With singing along, no answer at your door.

#lonely   #alone   #music   #smoking   #singing  
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