I stand and play,
For days and days
I play;
With a violin and a bow,
Wearing blue frock, I play.
I strike my bow
Like thunders clashing,
And devils gambling.
Yet the audience of dolls,
Only watches….
I strike furiously,
For now, rain pelts down,
Yet none hears.
The frock soaks in the rain
And deviates to purple,
As sorrow and loneliness,
Claps and cheers between the audience.
Yet neither they see nor hear.
My legs weaken,
And starts trembling,
Yet I clash my bow,
And breaks a string
And still I play.
The rain poisons me,
And my dress;
Dyeing it plain white.
I wonder why white?
For I am their emotion,
And their every stress
Woven into every strand and fabric of my dress.
As I am their black mirror.
I still stand and play
The violin which is rusted
By this cruel rain.
I hear somebody beside me,
And when I tilt
I see a trumpet playing with me.
And we dance in the rhythm,
And not caring about the audience.
The rain slows down,
And cool breeze blows.
My dress now sparkles
With a vibrant color of yellow and green.
I am now happy by someone
Beside me.
But as time flowed,
Black clouds yielded thunder,
The audience booed,
And threw curses at us.
The devil bowled,
Yet I kept on standing;
But the trumpet broke.
As the trumpet broke down,
In front of my very own eyes,
The rain perished,
The audience silenced,
And my dress turned red.
I finally gave up,
And felled down to ground,
And cried.
And now the audience
Heard my silent screams.
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