Everyone
Who's ever played
The piano
Has a love-hate
Relationship
With it
Those hours
Pounding away at the keys
Only to be ridiculed
And told
To be more gentle
To follow the notes
That you can't even read
But you tried
And tried
I tried so hard
To understand
None of the teachers
Could ever get it through to me
The pressure
The eggshells I had to walk on
It was too much
I just wanted
To make my own tunes
And not be forced
To try to replicate
The so called
Classics
Being measured
Against my peers
Hearing over and over
How great they are
To hear them being praised
For being naturals
Envy brewed within me
But I never meant
To be so jealous
I had my own skills
And they had theirs
Piano
Just wasn't for me
YOU ARE READING
Leaving Behind the Endless Fields of Corn and Soybeans
PoetryEveryone has that one place in their heart. The two will always be connected, whether they love that place, or hate that place. My place? My town? I love it, I hate it. I've left it behind. This collection of poetry is about the place, the town, tha...
