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Questions to No One
May 8, 2018
You can pluck my heartstrings and hear nothing but a languid twang;
See a distant vibrato and an echo that cannot expand like lungs trapped in a chest.
You do not have to listen to understand.
(place your ear on my chest and listen to me struggle to breathe, is that music to you? Place your hand on my chest and let your fingers shake along with the rest of me, does that feel like plucking a guitar? Am I just a mortal instrument fine tuned for your pleasure?)
© Anonymous
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This poem hits home for me. It is asking questions for those who don't understand, to get to the musicallity and the never ending symphony of fear, emotion, of life in my world. The big question is: why do you watch me struggle and why do you play with me? It is to no one, but for the auditor.