Music Is

Music is the blood
That courses my veins
In melodic rhythms,
And tempos and strains.

My ability to stand,
To rise and shine,
My comfort, my freedom,
My right frame of mind.

It's the soul that flows through me.
It's my wind and my rain.
It's that spiritual healer
That let's me believe again.

It's my heartbeat, my pulse,
The brainwaves that control me,
My food, drug, and drink,
And the arms that console me.

It's every man that I've dated,
Every love that I've known,
Every dream I've lived out,
Every chance that I've blown.

It's my religion, my faith.
It's my church of choice.
It's the amplified echoes
Of my words, of my voice.

Magic cause it possesses
The power to heal,
To tell you a story,
Make you think, make you feel.

Inside every melody,
Note and chord I reside.
During the dark storms of life,
It's where I go hide.

When cut, I bleed music notes,
Lyrics and rhyme,
Blood trickling out
In three quarter time.

Blood droplets shaped like
Trebles and clefs,
In a deafening crescendo
Til there is nothing left.

A crescendo, my music,
Rising til your ears want to pop,
But you can't turn it off
Cause then my heartbeat...might...stop.