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Beatbox



That night as I played- tears of blood rolled down my face drained in between the keys that were wiped away by the chords. That night as i played I played with my eyes closed and memories came back to me. I remembered when I would sit for hours making beats.
That night I decided I wasn't gonna let his beats stop my beats.
I wasn't gonna let his fingers stop my fingers from playing the Keys.
That night I vowed to never again part from music. I guess it's safe to say that that night, I became the music.
Iam the drums, the harder you hit me the louder my sound.
Iam the guitar, the more you pluck my strings the more experienced I'm forced to become.
Iam the piano the more you run your fingers through me the more complex my symphonies.
Iam the saxophone the more you insert your energies into me richer my sound
Iam the software, the more you take from me the more I chop.
The more you experiment with me the more I somp.
But the more music you take from me the more music is back.
I mean after all even inside the head of the death, there is ridden within, we're bound to death but only rest is left,rest assured my last breath and yours will be intertwined-darkened enjoying the words in a musical form- even when we pass through the doors of life to death and we only have one breath left we have no control over how we use it
Uncontrollably that last breath has just contributed to music.
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Submitted on September 26, 2015

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    "Beatbox" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 27 Nov. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/66579/beatbox>.

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