Everything
At Pitch
Manic
depressive my delightful friend
Sometimes
you whisper, at others you’re shrill
What’s
this, the pathway of artistic bliss?
Slammed
often against the sides of life that scratch
The
middle path is that of silence
Longed
for but rejected, in a paradoxical twist
For
wiring at birth decides the reaction pitch
I scream
to 441 hertz, the vibration of the universe
Our souls
are tuning forks and some are dulled
They
don’t hear the sound or feel the earth
My
sensitivity screams thru’ my mind
From
words that must out to my screeching high metal binds
Describe
yourself from your inner light outward
Illuminating
yourself in stark honesty
Not your
foibles or a dysfunctional soul
But the
identity you’ve made that affects the world
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