The Song I Never Played

 

What would have happened if I had never stopped playing the piano?

Would my life have turned into a beautiful song heard across the world?

Would I still be so insecure about my compositions,

My lyrics forgotten on a hard drive?

What would have happened if I had said nothing and simply kept playing

The melodies inside my head – would I have become a true composer?

What if I had never failed that crucial math exam?

Would I have become fluent in German,

Moving to this country like I once dreamt?

What if I hadn’t backed down and tried to study Asian languages at university?

Would I have travelled across Asia like I always wanted?

What would have happened?

–  A question I have asked myself too many times

When regret feels larger than everything I have achieved so far.

…

But I chose poorly – the times were different, my worldview limited,

Unsure of what I could and couldn’t do…

So many wasted opportunities.

And now I try to make peace with those choices, never quite happy.

As a little child, scared of an angry adult, I quit music

– My first and biggest heartbreak.

I still mourn the lack of resources – small town problems.

Circumstances led to the exam failure, though it was never my greatest regret.

I still blame my younger self for never trying again to switch my major.

It was never the change of city I feared, only my ability to succeed.

…

And now I still ask the same questions, mostly out of habit, knowing it is too late.

My career no longer brings the joy I once had.

I lack creativity, I hate working with numbers.

The only glimmer of hope is the wordplay I have in the evenings when no one is watching

When I can safely break down in tears, tired of the small, stupid daily games I play.

And in the middle of the night, tucked in bed, I still wonder

What might have happened if I stayed with the piano

Instead of standing frozen among strangers in the dim concert hall

Letting others sing the life once I knew as mine.

For a couple of hours, I let my body feel the life that slipped past me.

And every weekend, like clockwork, I pour my heartbreaks into poems like this one,

Stubbornly, I try to keep the last fragment of my soul alive.

Somewhere between the vocals of the songs I listen to and the words I claim as mine,

A small, quiet part of me still refuses to fade away,

It keeps me breathing, something I hold onto.

Yet I drift without direction, unable to see my path ahead.

I never stop moving simply because another day arrives,

Though the life I have feels empty, unfamiliar -

Just another adult demand…

Inner Void

 

Shadows borrowed from another world -

Sunless days and moonless nights,

Left to suffer like some destined martyr

When all I need is a hug from a friend or a foe.

But the world is ruined -

No one walks beside me even into harm.

..

And now caged and broken I rot in the void

Like a monk forgotten in a temple on a mountain high.

My vision shattered, my ears deaf – senses numb just to keep me alive

I am no saint – just a normal human.

Hair matted, face covered in dirt – like a doll I wait on the shelf called life

Buried like a prisoner in the dungeon of my hollow mind.

Warmth has never appealed to me – I am colder than ice,

Winter storms in my heart.

That’s why isolated in the emptiness I stay

To cleanse my mind of the anger I feel among countless souls -

Empty shells.

My rage consumes me like a fire devours dry trees,

Spreading desert – natural disaster.

I am so undone, the answer is never given to me.

Like a rat trapped in a maze, I pace, anxious to escape,

Circling back to wrath – even the silence is not enough.

Vicious thoughts, yet an innocent face smiling, pretending to care.

…

From the depths of my ire I rise again,

My fury doesn’t scare me anymore,

I accept it as my second nature, another demon to tame

Like every sin I have trained to serve me.

I refuse to give up the dark parts of me just to fit into the world.

Disgrace might be my middle name, yet I embrace it.

I am not deceived by the false positivity everyone promotes.

I refuse to wash myself into the light as if horror doesn’t live inside me.

Tired of the molds, I refuse to obey – this is not my nature.

As a hurricane I rage, as a sun I soothe – the Duality I claim as mine.