If you wore a suit of expression
Forged out of iron words
On the anvil of explanation,
One that comes out strong
And fits like your own skin
To armor up for introduction,
It would only cover more
Of what you already show
So instead you wear your heart
On your sleeves
Your perhaps unfashionable,
However durable sleeves
Made from the fabric of feeling
Woven by threads of thoughts
As if what you have on
Is yourself inside-out.

If you came out as a loud noise
Solid and sharp
Bringing only auditory effect
And no message to transmit
To the sympathetic nerves,
Not of beats but a mere blast,
And what's a sound
When it's not music?
So instead you come out as a song
Fingertips on guitar strings,
Soul in the playing
And story in the lyrics
A voice calling out,
Serenading,
Hoping to be an anthem
Or at least a playlist item.