Keys

Mon, 11/14/2016 - 00:13 -- omgjars

I was born this way.
And because I was born this way, I was given a keyboard.
Every child gets one.
My keyboard has about 88 keys.
Maybe less. Maybe more.
It just depends on what you see when you look out the window.
Once I started to play, I was aware that some chords I didn't even have to learn. I just knew them.
It was like they were a part of me.
And there were some chords that I learned from my teacher, and I like how they sound.
And there were some chords that I learned that I did not like; ones I didn't want to play.
Over time, I pieced together my own symphony. 

My friend, he didn't like his keyboard; so he played mine. 
When he asked me to play his, I said "no thank you."
He didn't like what he heard, so he tormented me for hours.
I felt as if he were about to grab my hands and slam them down onto his keyboard.
For his sake, I told him I would play a few of his keys.
I did not like them, as expected, and went back to mine.
My comfort.

He said my symphony drowned out his, even though we played at separate times. 
So did everyone else.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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