a violinist without a muse

my writing is like a violin,

no matter how much i play it,

it always releases the wrong note.

i can't seem to get this right

to find the right note to land on,

for my strings always snap

at the most inopportune of moments,

and i need to get this right,

i can't set this bow down just yet,

i need to try again,

try again 'till the piece sounds like

it's supposed to,

try again 'till i no longer

throw down my bow with finality,

anger and frustration

as i lob the resin across the room,

watch it hit the wall,

and i slide down to my knees and cry,

for i must get this right,

ignore the sour notes and move on,

take a deep breath.

for i am an artist,

a poet, a musician,

and i have to play this piece correctly. 

The End

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