88

What glared back at me on that cold January afternoon was 88 motionless keys It killed me to see them sitting there quietly How enticing they looked but that didn't matter The 88 keys weren't made to be looked at, but listened to As much as my sister hated the keys, I couldn't resist My heart craved to hear what the keys had to say All 88 of them pulled me in and forced my hands to play with them With no song in mind, the keys took control Soon my eyes gave in as the music blanketed my sight with darkness The melody didn't matter Simply sound For that one moment my senses all shut off But the keys' awakening sound opened my ears I could hear the incongruous harmonies The mellifluous discordances The 88 taught me more than any textbook or teacher could And for the first time, I realized different is beautiful Amongst all the judgement and stereotypes, there's diversity Beautiful diversity To the weird ones The bizarre The crazies The misfits We're lucky Without us the world would be boring And though I learned this late in life I'm happy I finally did Thanks to the 88