I was a piano
And you were the pianistYou kept on playing,
We've made music together,But you kept on playing,
And playing, and playing,
Until all my chords broke off,You've heard all my music,
You broke me in the most beautiful way,Now, though, I'm just a worn down, old piano
I look fine, ye I have no chords left
To play for//k.u.
YOU ARE READING
When I Can't Do Anything Else
PoetryWhen I can't do anything else, I write poems. [Became #1 in Poetry a long time ago]