Music is my Voice

Sat, 03/21/2015 - 22:11 -- Jenny

Music is the drive that moves me from the thorns of a rose up to the ovary.
Where a sweet smell dwells.
I lay in the middle and listen
Healing from the prick of the past thorns
I bleed to the beat and memories flow
The sound of a keyboard casts me away from all troubles
Like a mother tree providing shade
I sit and let the sound of eighth notes envelope me
Look up and see air moving in melody
Petals sway back and forth in perfect harmony
I guess its time to tell my story, proudly
I never speak yet my words define me
Music speaks to me like MLK did to us and said "I have a dream."
Gospel is the gravity that pulls snowflakes down softly and lightly shimmers down on a child's tongue.
Where did I find my way out of such a life of sexual abuse
How did I unlock my mental thoughts of suicide
When would I be free from the bounding chains of depression and PTSD
Why is my stress level 95% higher then the average teen.
Music speaks, and tells me to forgive, the people that hurt me and did not want me to live
They sexually abused me, because the foreign child I was, as the Romans slayed Jesus like an enemy
How do I get out of this?
I know one day I'll have climbed the stem of a rose, been through all the thorns,
And reached the top
Placed in a rose full of music
because a rose can be sweet or sour
Although life is SOUR now, I look forward to the day when the sweet sweet sound of music, takes me away

This poem is about: 
Me

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