"it's too late to apologise, it's too late."
one
well I hope you come to realise that maybe the drilling rhythm and the turned up volumes were meant to drown your vicious words and hurtful voice out.
two
I hope you realise that each night she spends with her textbooks or on her ( oh, so lifeless ) laptop watching crash courses were meant to throw herself into overdrive and immerse herself in the workload that serves an even better companion than you've ever been.
three
And I hope you see that each session with her delicate, fragile fingers running so gracefully across those 88 black and white keys were meant to beautify and soften each night you've stormed home from wherever you've been to and sent brutal thunder her way.
what you won't ever see
one.
because maybe you won't ever find out that each piercing remark of yours cuts edge and right into her heart, and that the pounding beat audible even to your ears was never enough to shut you out. maybe you won't ever know that she stays up each night, stock still in bed, pondering over what you've hurled at her. she'll never admit that your words have struck hard, but you need to know that she blames no one but herself for being such a mistake to you, to her friends, to society.
two.
because maybe you won't ever realise or acknowledge the effort she's put in to better herself; you'll always reduce her restless nights to absolutely nothing. but perhaps you should take a look at her flawless work, the vast sea of highlighted points in her puzzlingly neat coursebooks. the information she's keyed into her hard drive exists only to make you proud, but i guess you never will be.
three.
those intoxicating sonatas and swinging rhapsodies were her lifeline, one that she drowned herself in. the pleasure she felt in her fingers, hands, her entire body was sufficient to bring on an onslaught of fresh tears. did you ever realise how the music would leave her glowing ever so radiantly, how a smile would always seem to play across her chapped lips? this is how music saves a soul, strengthens a spirit. her spirit.
S -T - O - P.
she is NOT a dump for your angry words, nor a channel for your mental frustration. she is most certainly not your clockwork doll; do not jam her gears together and not expect her destruction. she is a beautiful, ringing melody meant only for those who can, will appreciate her, she is meant for a luxurious stage that she can call her own. and while she's performing live at a gala concert while you're rotting alone at home on the dusty old couch, while she's accepting the calls of lovely, kind souls who've called in just to leave a few short yet incredibly significant lines of encouragement, you can expect this.
"im sorry, ma'am, but it looks like we're experiencing a few technical difficulties. would you mind considering switching channels?"
