My song is not particularly melodic, but it is my song
I sing of joy, remembrances of joy really, there is little joy in my song
I sing of love, there is always strong love in the wavering tones as I struggle with the words
The pain that comes out is real, intertwined with joy, layered with love, black and hard
The refrain is a haunting – it speaks to uncertainty and regret. It is not the regret of a missed opportunity, it is the regret of not belonging.
The song is my song. The song is sung regardless of audience or the time of day or even the mood of the moment
I cannot be anything other than my song.
My song is real, it is not particularly catchy, but it is my song
The verses seem to evolve, ramble, and change, that is OK, it is my song
When I go back and read the lyrics, I wonder who wrote that song, but I do know it is my song.
There are times where I quit singing, want to forget my voice, forget myself…the song persists.
I wonder if I have earned my song? What true pain have I endured, what true love have I experienced, what life have I lived to be granted a voice?
It is my song and it flows without my permission
I try to sing of healing, and relief, my words bring suffering and pain. The song is not for anyone else, it is mine
I sing…I just sing. Most of the time I don’t remember the words and hum along. I suppose that is fine too, are the words really that important…I just sing.
I will continue to sing, to rewrite the one song I know, to sing in a different key hoping it changes the outcome, but in the end…it is just my song.
I will sing my song.