every chord
on the nylon strings
the g the e
the c the a
sounds so exultant
so content
it masks
morose and melancholy
lyrics and rhymes;
and yet everyone can make it
sound more cheerful than
i ever could
everyone can make it
everyone can make it—
except for me

but don't tell me I never tried
i tried my damnedest and I am
still ******* trying
i am screaming hallelujah
at the top of my lungs until
asthma beats me down
until my throat feels pricked
with needles
and i will continue to play the chords
of a song describing
a futility i feel in my bones
and i will try to make them sound
hopeful, ******

because i need this