I want to play an instrument that doesn't exist
Because the ones that do were scratched off my list
The woodwinds blew me out of the water
The strings pricked my fingers
The keys locked my heart
My voice started to falter
I used to intensly play, but now I lay
On the bed to contemplate why I can't like the old games
I went through a metamorphosis but I still have the old clothes
I need a new purpose; I need a new song
If I wander the soundless forest, it'll show
I want to play an instrument that doesn't exist
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem