Winter

As I sit here on a seat next to my baby grand piano.
Starring at the sheet music for Vivaldi's Four Seasons,
I turn to Winter and play like I never played in my life.
Watching my fingers dance on the keys, I ponder.

Listening to the music being played, I think about
The past I once lived and all I had left behind.
Only at the sincere age of fifteen, I have experienced
more than a thirty four year old man would have.

Continuing playing, remembering all the events that
shook my well being into tons of insignificant parts.
I start to cry while playing my highly significant song.
Who knew a musicial prodigy would live through it all.

Pressures of my life struggle to knock me down permenantly.
Tending success is one force I want to obtain by being strong.
Nothing is getting easier but just becoming more difficult.
Almost completing my song, I start to become assure with my mind.

As I bare to look at my bloody red fingers from playing Vivaldi, I ponder.
Why was I born and live this certain way that no one else does...
Then I look at my baby grand then say under the deep breathes im taking,
because I am what I was meant to be since the day I was concieved...