Exiting Exulansis

Soul Symphony

I tap each silent piano key
with unsightly sound precision,
Yet symphony is not produced,
why is it doubtfully so?
I read the ancient music sheet
with my half blurred vision,
I've been quite mistaken in it
and now I frankly know.

Like keys of black and white
on this elegant instrument,
My life has been carefully made
and melodiously colored.
But, it has not been
one of many positive predicament, Different volumes
of majors and minors,
are what were offered.

I play a major of disaster,
where mistakes have been made,
And add a minor of regrets,
things wishing to have been done.
Littered in between
are flats of various kinds and waves,
That give a vibrant kind of tone
to my melody,
when they come.

My hands may not reach
all the keys I need
but I do know,
That music is not always made
with a million different notes.
This frail, lacking pianist
may be a novice
but what he can show,
Is the acceptance of this piece,
the life that he still keeps afloat.

I've learned to see the music sheet of my life
as a work of art,
The numerous lows
that echo out dejection
give the highs their joy;
Each flat that may be boring,
are what keep the calm in my heart,
And though this symphony
is not perfection
it is what I employ.

Written by: KHResurreccion

Great use of similes my friend, it fed the deepest abyss of my unapologetic, soundless soul.

P.s: What you have is what you'll be. If you try to expand yourself to be like others, the opposite happens: you'll deplete your own esteem. Love what you have, flaunt it melodiously.