The writer makes the music
The writer speaks the words
But sometimes doesn't realize
How much they both can hurt
Some listen to the words
Some listen to the music
To get a point across
It matters not which one you pick
Music can be healing
Uplifting, fulfilling
The writer has no idea
What feelings he's instilling
He can write a happy song
But just one word or chord
Can turn the song around
And make frustration out of reward
One song can be interpreted
So differently, it's crazy
But it isn't because
The writer's being lazy
Whatever he is feeling
However it comes out
It goes down on the page
There is no room for doubt
Whatever people see or hear
Is how he is perceived
Not by what he's given
But what has been received
Maybe he wrote it for himself
Maybe for the world
But whatever's on the paper
Are his deepest feelings unfurled
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem