WHEN I PLAY MY FLUTE

When I played my flute,
I let out my agony.
When I sounded my horn,
I spoke out my fears.
Still,you listened and enjoyed.

When I missed the nights,
And I open my window panes,
And the storm ushers in light,
I tend to be inferior compared to the beams.
Still you passed by and smiled.

When I took my ink to scribe,
Of how dark my world is,
When I sent the postman to you,
To convey you my fears,
Still you read and casted aside.
© omega*3