Jodainislame
One solace I can take while sitting amongst corn fields, amongst blindness, is between the monotany of popular (for them) music there is a twang even I can't resist.
She had your face, coming close to your voice, but never your essence. What I fool I was to trust her, to take pity, how pitiful - however, I would take none of it back. Standing at the brink of death, you gave me life.
Dreamy tunes fueled by experiments of an era, cemented firmly in our popular conscious to be ever lasting.
A sour bitterness filled his mouth seeing the man in front of him, his father figure, believed to be dead, with secrets spilling out all at once. His anger, rarely seen, at this moment knew no bounds.
High pitched strings won over my teenage heart. Everyone wanted to be a musician, don't forget the quirk, and would play at the lunch tables. Seems the fad didn't stick.
As if stone could be petrified, yet move all the same, one of the last reminders of magic and mystery - a large horned beast.
Soft notes float loftly through forgotten space, none of which get along with the other. A small rodent scurries over ivory, taking it's fill of food which had fallen over the keys.
Every once in a while my villagers will see me sprinting about, I can see their confusion as they haven't seen me in months. Doesn't matter the time or the distance, our friendship is eternal. They show me this in the little things, like a kiwi dress.
My first hot date, first experiences exploring a new world of flavor and sensation. So much time has past since those days, and like an ugly ex, I don't care to look you way any longer.
Waking up before the sun, rubbing soft mint under my eyes to keep them open. The drive in was always a blur, the store was still dark. But we, the arbiters of morning, went to work preparing people for their days ahead.
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