Austin James Schock The Ivory Strands Glistened In My Eyes, As My Pupils Seemed To Match The Ebony Keys. My Fingers Feeling Every Inch, Ambrosial.
I Could See The Notes Spraying Out Of My Device, But I Could Never Grab Them, For If I Took My Hands Off Of The Keys, The Music Might Stop.
Reds, Blue, Greens, Never Black Though. I Could See Music Building And Subsiding As It Passed By My Eyes. Not That I Could See Anyways.
Blinded, But Not Faded Were The Colours In My Eyes. I Never Did Understand What Made The Hammers Hit The Strings, Maybe They Werent Friends?
I Felt The Vibrations Travel Through My Crooked Wrists, As I Cocked My Head And Drew On A Crooked Smile. I Was Never Good At Smiling.
People Always Asked Me Why I Wasn't Very Happy. Why I Was Always Just Playing My Piano. Alone, All Alone. I Guess They Didn't Understand.
I Was Never Alone. In-fact, I Was Quite A Party Animal. My Friends And I Would Always Play The Pianos In My Attic Day And Night.
They Didn't Talk Much. I Guess They Never Had Much To Talk About. Maybe They Were Shy. I Never Understood Why They Didn't Play Very Pretty.
Their Hands Were Clumpy, I Could Feel That. And Their Faces Were Rough, I Could Feel That Too. Their Hairstyles Reflected The Marine Corp.
But We Still Had A Good Time. I Just Wish They We Here With Me. To Play My Piano. To Touch. To Feel. To Try And See.
