you don’t want to breathe
today
when each sound is music.
to blow a wrong note
seems criminal.
still, you must
breathe, so you go into
a place you think is empty
and continue to do so,
only to find
hosts of song entering,
ready to drown you.
your eyes are swimming,
your lungs filling with voices
without malice
that are still killing you.
to live, you become
a fish: you learn to live in it
until you can evolve
back onto solid ground.
until you can sing solo again,
no one listening, your voice
slung out on the air
in search of a chorus
that can sustain you;
harmony, not unity.
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