Still

Why this love for music
But a voice no one loves?
Why do you want me to play
When no one else does?

Why do I write poetry
That people don’t read?
Why do I pretend
You’re all that I need?

Why do I have talent
That sits on the shelf?
Why do you keep thinking
I don’t need any help?

Oh, where do you go,
On nights like last night?
Where do you go,
Unmistakable light?

How come it’s so hard
To get out of my bed?
And yet even harder
To get out of my head?

I practice and practice
For a day that won’t come
I fight and I fight
For a war that is won

Of pains, I know many
I seem to master them all
These pains ne’er subside
Not a single one small

You have made me a glutton
For sorrow and grief
A prisoner of pain
A sadness motif

And yet I get up
As each night dies
Still I get up
And still I rise