to composeA Poem by minetteyou have your ivory keys
and your harpsichord dreams your entire being poured onto your page so you write your own music under chord, pen and ink but when you scrawl with your little shaking hands a crooked note onto the scale they sneer staring with their coal black eyes at your little hunched frame as your masterpiece lies collapsed under the weight of the world © 2012 minetteAuthor's Note
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