Growing soul-calluses

I played the same old melody to the guitar.
It wasn’t the first time, it won’t be the last.
Another tryout, another disappointment.
The strings cut deep into my flesh. They wounded me.
I let them do so.
We live, we play, we try again.
I’m stronger for not lettin’ them get the best out of me.
From pain, shields are being built.
The best music will come when I won’t feel anything at all.

I thank the strings for teaching me once more the sound of pain.
I could’ve broken them a hundred times so far.
I know their weak spots.
I’m stronger for not lettin’ them get the best out of me.
I’m learning.
The best music will come when I won’t feel anything at all.

I listened to their desperate song and cry for so many nights.
And yet they hurt me.
They don’t deserve my kindness.
But I forgive them nonetheless and play them well.
I’m learning.
The best music will come when I won’t feel anything at all.


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