Through the beat of a stereo,
To the waves inside a song,
Through the oomph of a kick,
To the return of the snare,
Through the lulling of some keys,
To the riffing of a scale,
Through the dots between a rhyme,
To the holding of a breath,
Through adrenalized executions,
To whispers: mournful, sounding voices,
Through emotional accounts,
To braggadocios suavvy
vibes,
Through the mirrors of a stereo,
I begin to see the world,
The note that carries weight or pomp,
Animates my path for sure,
So every time I leave my room,
I bring my stereo have it run,
Maybe it’s the mind I got,
Needing soundtracks to perform,
Maybe an instinctive itch,
Knows the voices hates the mess,
Either way I got these sounds,
Lighting paths for me at dawn,
I’m content just being a proxy,
Of my music and the notes,
Long as I can stop and live,
Through my dark and sonic stereo
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