The Song

It’s going to be in the third book of Guardian Angel series.

I need you all to imagine that you’re sitting in front of a piano and tapping the keys. Sing these words, and tell me how you feel. Can you feel the emotions?

‘This is my story,
So simple and plain,
It revolves around a word,
A word that I cannot explain,

Hear the story through the tune,
Through each key that I tap,
Feel it through the notes,
High and low, or deep and soft, perhaps,

The word makes me smile,
So, I’ll hit the high notes for you,
But…
But it also brings tears of sadness, 
I’ll press down on the low notes too,

The piano is my heart, each beat are the keys,
And the tune expresses how I feel, 
Follow the story, my fingers shout,
But, this word, is a word that can never be real,

This word controlled my actions,
My feelings, my thoughts,
It justified each and every step I took,
Disregarding the consequences, it brought,

But this word gave me meaning to life, 
To taste, to touch, for me to breathe,
It’s just the waiting game that has me hooked,
Impatience taking over belief,

Anger courses through me,
As this word interferes with my life,
Hear the deep sound that echoes across the room,
Low notes pressed down hard, one, two, three, four, five,

The piano is my heart, each beat are the keys,
And the tune expresses how I feel, 
Follow the story, my fingers shout,
But, this word, is a word that can never be real,

How can you play with this word, 
My emotions, my feelings for you?
High, low, deep, soft, 
Tell me, which key should I choose?

Anger, happiness, smiles, tears,
Confusion, emotions, which key do I press?
My fingers are too fast,
But, please follow this story, follow this mess,

These thuds inside me, 
When you’re near me, I can’t explain, 
But, when you walk away, without a second glance,
It’s replaced with fear, ache, such pain,

The piano is my heart, each beat are the keys,
And the tune expresses how I feel, 
Follow the story, my fingers shout,
But, this word, is a word that can never be real,

This word has caused all this, 
Yet, the word is still pure,
But, once this word catches you, 
Be sure, you will never find a cure,

Maybe the story of my life is not so simple, 
What I feel, can no longer be suppressed,
My fingers, the tune, the notes, 
Is the only way my story can be expressed,

It’s hard to order my story, 
When you play with my heart, 
Crush and stamped upon, 
Relieved now, as it’s shattered, 
Shattered…
Now, shattered apart,

The piano is my heart, each beat are the keys,
And the tune expresses…
It expresses,
It expresses how I feel, 
Follow the story, my fingers shout,
But, this word, is a word that can never be real’ 

©Fatima Begum

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