My guitar as of late
has been bringing me
all types of sadness
but it’s a happy sadness
it’s a healing sadness
it’s an honest sadness
I’ve fought so long to forget
that it’s funny how
with no one listening
except the walls and this
box of cous-cous
I haven’t yet opened
but sort of sing to
as it’s eye level on the shelf
where I put my phone to record
I am able to free myself
one melody at a time
turning sadness into song
and song into myself
I sing.
Words Of An Average White Male 
The ‘box of cous cous’ line made me smile… Sorry if that was not your intention! ☺️🖤
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Glad it did! Just a little quirk I though would lighten the mood…and the fact that there is in fact a box of cous-cous I’ve been singing to. Haha, glad your smiling, keep up!
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Haha, thanks! You too – both the writing and the singing! 😁🖤
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Keep singing, please.
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I intend too. Thank you Casey.
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Gorgeous. This reads like it could pair with the Picasso painting The Old Guitarist
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I will have to look that up. Love Picasso. Thanks for the suggestion.
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“I guess that’s why they call it the blues…” There would be no blues without sadness, no songs without words.
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Thanks man, keep up! I agree.
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