Music is my peace,
Was my peace,
I'm losing my passion for it,
I hardly had time with it

I'm forcing myself to play,
To glide my fingers over the keys,
So I don't lose the rhythm,
Practiced over two years.

My heart yearns to make a rhythm to sate,
my brain tires bored with the keys.
My fingers stretch with the notes they take,
but my mind is bored with the melodies,
I force myself to make.

I start in D major but I always end in the minor.
See my heart yearns to make,
But my brain tires,
A mix of external factors, so busy.
Thinking.

I try to rhyme, I hope that isn't what a poem needs.
Because the words that I spew aren't naturally Alternating or enclosed

For my words come from the heart and certainly not my brain,
Maybe I will get bored of this too.
I hope not,
Because this is my new peace.