Running, up and down till my fingers blister and bleed.

It’s an intricate dance of pulling and plucking.

I'm hopelessly searching for something.

Whether it's mental peace or personal satisfaction, neither is attainable. 

It feels so complicated.

Sitting through the empty pages of impossible code, I'm seeking a non-existent hidden meaning.

Reality somehow muted for a second or two, and I'm no longer lost.

I'm smiling with a choir in my head and some shabby wood in my hand.

It’s all an act...you pretend to be great no matter how mediocre you are.

My swollen fingers continue to scream silently.

My symphony is interrupted.

“Listening is half the learning,” they always say.

But if I am going to listen, then they should stop talking first.  

But I know that in my head, I will always be a guitar goddess.