those who can sculpt the heavens from earth
and conceptualize the intangible.
My gift is the sound of music;
the most restrictive of the arts.
No matter how gorgeous the sound
that flows from the monochromatic ivories
that I tickle with my fingertips
I will always be held prisoner
to those
12 notes, locked away in a cell of
88 black and white bars
made
(in a true testiment to irony)
from keys keys keys.
I've always thrived in captivity.