Music & Dust

This poem; a little bit unrated

I would like to rhyme for music

Unadulterated

Woke up one morning

Chills rushing up my spine.

That feeling once

The acoustics roar.

It gets me everytime.

Flesh and bone.

A mind an ocean tide.

Searching for home.

Yet no where is home

And no place to Ride.

Ride out the storm

That’s sturring the tide.

Mentally my thoughts

Are also my weakness.

Can’t help but think

Actions with meekness

My thoughts are my own.

My actions however

Is from broken home.

Thank the heavens above

For the blessings below.

A mixing of natural highs a lows.

When an artist teaches live on love.

Yet others teach love is a hopeless disaster.

In the learning we find the fact of the matter.

Is we fight a lifetime

Climbing the social ladder

Only to find

A lonely state of mind.

Elderly read to themselves.

Nick nacks sit on the shelves.

Some of them Rust.

They must collect dust.

Then they shine with brighter glory.

Since dust, the cracks, and the rust.

Paint a landscape of their story.

Thank you Music

For staying a mixture.

As many spend time dusting light fixtures.

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