Gentle were my symphonies,
a gift unknown to me.
I voiced my sweet catastrophes,
but my words were lost at sea.
"Seven years is too young," They say,
for a girl to wonder free
about her mind in a place
where the real world cannot be. Fantastic were my symphonies,
as I grew and blossomed true,
but too young I would soon find
what the real world can do.
It was Halloween in 2010,
his favorite holiday too.
No one knew just why he left,
but it was his choice, not mine or you. Gone were my symphonies,
as the depression took its place,
and I learned the only beauty
that mattered was my face.
So I fell hard in love
with a boy from far away,
but my looks were not enough
and our words fell from grace. Lonely were my symphonies
still stuck inside my head.
Afraid to let them out
and hear what would be said.
So I locked myself inside my thoughts
and pondered what I had seen.
Death, ignorance, and love
all tearing at the seams. Silent were my symphonies,
as I put paper to pen.
I would soon escape my thoughts
and learn to love again.
A keyboard understood me
better than any human could.
My words came pouring out
and the world again was good. Beautiful are my symphonies
I've come to realize.
Poetry is my armor,
It helps me stay alive.
I no longer live in fear
and keep quiet my words,
because my symphonies are beautiful,
and beautiful they always were.