they say that music cures your pain.
like the kid playing the saxophone and
spinning in his socks across the wooden floor.
the best friends with frizzled hair and
alpaca hats who pluck their little ukeleles
like they can't afford guitars and don't care.
entire symphonies pouring out of one boy,
one voice, one pedal and one violin.
the guy tapping his conga drum and the
girl on the acoustic singing pop songs
that sounded good on the radio but will never
sound as good again after you hear them like this.
what they don't tell you is some things
hurt no matter what.
like the way singing duets makes me feel.
the way the point of my sternum hits
the uppermost vertebrae in my spine.
the children whose hands i'll never hold.
how i can't seem to make my friends smile
the way all my other friends can.
runaway cats, dead sleep, the hidden part
of myself that i forgot i can't show.
so i'll just sit here. i can't play the piano
but i can listen to how the strings sound
when they ring.
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