A little poem

Music echoes in my head as a sound on a cave,

It makes my strings vibrate like an earthquake.

Me, secreting words out of my head

more perfect sounds leaving me more than dead.

As I reach the pen out of sight,

images flow throught my head ASAP.

Travelling through space as if it was real life

called videogames, what a waste of time.

While painting, hearing, and playing are a blast

all my life ends no more no less, just like trash.