Acta est fabula, plaudite
What I sing from my chest
Only for ivory keys to hear.
Are the same old words
That cracked lips bear.
That familiar tune that calloused fingers play
Is the one that my own heart aches to say.
I have plucked and I have strummed
But when its my own heartstrings
That are plucked for the masses
Will my soul succumb or burn to ashes?
If a song is played for others to judge
Its worth is no longer for me alone.
My fears replayed as feedback
And my own tune I have outgrown.
When the keys have cracked
And guitar strings snapped;
Is the silence left a rest
Or is it forever prolonged?
I have played my part
And sang my chant
My ear worm finally laid to rest.
Yet a few notes linger in the air
Awaiting the song to begin again.
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