Ode to a Clarinet

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Written July 24, 1987

Submitted: January 11, 2012

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Submitted: January 11, 2012

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I stare at it for hours

black and shiny in the dim of poor lighting.

It cries for me

and I ignore it for days

as dust collects on every key

and it too fails the light.

I’m scared of it.

It makes me feel.

It uses the energy my heart can’t give.

I want to play,

I just don’t want to feel.

It takes too much of me.

It leaves me weakened and hurt.

Sometimes it makes me special

and then it shows my inadequacies.

My own life is so much less important

than the notes on a page.

How can paper and sound make me cry?

Why does my heart break apart

each time I hear that note?

The tension is too great for me

So…

I stare at it for hours

black and shiny in the dim of poor lighting.


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