piano in my room
there's a keyboard in my room now which i brought from my moms house a keyboard piano that's collected dust maybe it can collect a different kind now it stares at me in my sleep and taunts me i want to be good, and i don't want to try if it's not effortless then why even bother what doesn't come naturally, won't come at all but sometimes i'll sit down on that stool play a scale, and then mess with chords and i'll turn it off, then cry. it wasn't perfect and my piano is eating me alive, a little bit. the black keys boring holes into my ears and a pedal that steps right back on you i'm just a better singer, i focus on singing because i'll never be good enough to be more fuck fuck fuck, the cartoon animals dance they slide and jive across the measures jaunt around and taunt me senselessly i know it's a breeze if i'd just get started but my feet are sick and i'm sick and my piano is sick. God , it's so fucking sick im so fucking sick, i want things to start
This poem is certainly a unique one from my collection, in my opinion. It's straight to the point, discussing my frustration with trying to learn something new. Closer to the end is more of the frustration coming out. Anyone who has attempted to learn piano will know a lot of beginner books are for younger kids and so they have little cartoon animals all over to keep them interesting. I fucking hate those animals. I'd punch that dumb lion in the face if I could. I said fuck a lot too because it made me feel better!