I'm not an artist by design,
Though I picked it for GCSE—
So where do my true loyalties lie?
What does my heart want me to be?
It sings a song of a different tune,
Though I forced it to play a sweet melody.
It wants to hear a heavy bass beat
Of harsh symphonies—
Something raw and compelling;
Is that who I want to be?
Sometimes I hear that sweet tune on the breeze
And I follow it like a moth drawn to a flame,
But it never ends well; the moth will get burnt
And I will taste the bitterness of poor creativity.
So I go back to humming and fiddling with the strings
Of my life guitar:
Trying to work out what tune is mine;
What the name is of the song
My heart always sings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well done.