What else could matter?

“What’s running in your mind, my boy,
As you constantly look up the empty sky?
Do you feel insecure,
Looking at the mirror of life
Thats obsure?
Whatever you feel you utter,
And doesn’t it make your living bitter,
For the people around aren’t the same
In this life’s unfair game?
When the innocence is crushed, one is terrified,
And to become corrupt becomes a natural resort!
Do you conclude in this evening,
That to learn to manipulate is the art of living?”

“Those tunes of violin are being played,
To let my thoughts not to go astray.
Untouched, my every characteristic
Will dwell in those refelctions of music!
And those mighty rhythms gently spin across,
Swaying, soothing all the deep scars,
Causing in my heart a profound pleasure,
And making my life; this art is a treasure!
You’re right, you know me better,
And yes, whatever I feel I utter,
Whether it will gain me a living doesn’t matter,
For the music completes me, however!
I am here not to manipulate but to contemplate
And to remain innocent is to remain in love,
And everything in front becomes a wow!”
So he spoke, with his senses that evolved
As he stood, watching the empty sky in awe!


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