When Wishes Come True by Rabindranath Tagore

after a long day,
or when you realise
it isn’t working,
or when the blue of the sky
is blurred out by the grey of the clouds,
just a cup of coffee doesn’t help,
not me,
a caress on the cheek
or a nice compliment doesn’t either,
not me,
it’s the slow, ethereal melodies
and
the catchy guitar notes
and
the syncing of the voice
with the haughty beat,
this is what makes my day feel real,
my existence a little more substantial,
my beliefs more believable.

anticipating the bridge of the song
having heard it over and over,
having it placed in your heart,
ears perking up wherever there's
a beat similar to that of the song’s,
goosebumps breaking out at an
unexpectedly touching lyric.

what’s the best?
when you’re away from everyone,
in a happy place,
the weather irrelevant as long as
there’s a book in hand,
the sound of music to rely on,
that there shall always be a world
to run away to,
a world where i can pretend
as if this one doesn’t exist,
always, there is a shoulder to cry on
and a hand urging you
toward your passions,
supporting them.

music isn’t just sound,
it’s beautiful red roses,
sleek and sharp knives,
a lovely snowfall,
a vast ocean of words and notes,
having a seemingly small impact,
but really,
it’s the difference between hope and
whatever isn’t hope.

i get confused a lot,
i don’t understand a lot,
and a lot of the times,
i wish people would just disappear,
but when it’s just me and a earphones jammed into my ears,
i’m momentarily relaxed and when i open my eyes,
i know i’m sad
because my hand reaches out to increase the volume.