Out of Tune

I'm not an artist by design, Though I picked it for GCSE— So where do my true loyalties lie? What does my heart want me to be? It sings a song of a different tune, Though I forced it to play a sweet melody. It wants to hear a heavy bass beat Of harsh symphonies— Something raw and compelling; Is that who I want to be? Sometimes I hear that sweet tune on the breeze And I follow it like a moth drawn to a flame, But it never ends well; the moth will get burnt And I will taste the bitterness of poor creativity. So I go back to humming and fiddling with the strings Of my life guitar: Trying to work out what tune is mine; What the name is of the song My heart always sings.