Those who wish to sing will always find a song.
While I was strumming the guitar, I feel my heartbeat, trying to conquer the tunes and the lyrics that I keep on hiding for years now. I always thought that music will be my great escape to a world who never listens. But no, it’s my great tower of hope. Music is all I’ve got in times of loneliness and despair, bringing myself into endless world of chords and words. You could be anyone inside a song, inside the scenes of your own memories. It eludes you and gives the essence of life while you’re being captivated from your own fears.
Music is my bestfriend. It has been my turning point whenever people shut me down. And as I keep on strumming, I always hear myself crying inside my quiet soul, inside that soul that keeps on screaming for help, for love and for attention. I couldn’t help but change chords overtime, to feel its tune as I sing the song that my heart keeps on singing. Until the music fades and all I have was a broken string. A string that I used to ease the pain, the sorrow, the fear.But this doesn’t really stop me from singing, it won’t stop me from believing, that these strings could still find music inside. My heart beats, my veins are living, my blood flows, and I’m still breathing.
In the silence of solitude, I heard myself making it’s own music through my body, through this emptiness, through this time. I heard myself speaking the same line, singing the same songs, and listening to my own voice of silence. This is my song,, the unspoken truth of song. The undetermined tunes that keeps on breaking all of the records. I am an artist of my own.