My voice was not made for singing
My fingers not made for strumming
My ears were made for listening
The lyrics my best friend
The beat my lover
Worries end
The only thing I worry about is buffering
My homeland
Where would I be without this natural high
This lovely invasion of sound and poetry
This destroyer of boredom
Will I go mad when this invasion
This destroyer is corrupted by
Judgement and greed
© Francisca Vargas, 2011
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