As he strums the strings of the guitar..
You can hear the music that his finger tips consume..
He is destined to be something bigger than life..
Something bigger than himself..
Become a musician that makes our hearts warm...
Our tears dry...our pains wallow...Our minds expand...
He is the guitar..as the guitar is he...
From child to man.. With his guitar in his hand...
A child prodigy has now turned to a man...
All grown up now...Poetry in his own form...
With each note..I sway to the rhythm... Vocalizing each note...
The best musician I've ever come into contact with...
Tears fill my eyes as I sit next to him...and listen to his story...
He is a poet...as he tells me everything... Through his notes...
From the happy tune to the down right depressing...
All the while his eyes close as he visualizes his past..
I look at his guitar and see all the signatures of his previous life..
The life he so longed to continue...
and with his last words..he says to me..”and that's why I'm homeless”
The dirt covers his face...the stench I didn't even mind...
The only thing that bothered me...was the sadness he held in his face..
That broke my heart.. The drugs consumed him so much...
That they made him this lonely man.. This brittle soul...
His family left him.. His children don't claim him..
Because the drugs.. consumed all his time...all his love..
But he taught me something...That no matter how.. good you are at something...
Your not invincible... You have to have the passion...
the love for that thing... To keep yourself from the evils..
Cause his love for music was not great enough...
to keep him from the white lady....that took his life away...