When thoughts are dark and the heart is churning,

An escape and freedom is to be welcomed.

The hurting needs to knock out the bad so

New emotions can grow.

 

New thoughts with greener fields and

Fresher air caring the pain in the wind.

Something to float the burning embers

Down and away from view.

 

Something that will erode the old and broken and

Carry it down a browning stream, until it’s out of view.

That, in its place, will regrow and flourish with

Bright colors and happy times.

 

We all need that escape flood to wash away the agony

And leave in its spot better flowers and lively life.

We all have that special way to erase what we don’t want

And grow the freedom of wandering minds.

 

My special way is a sound that muddles the polluted.

My coursing river carries notes that will stay the visit

Until the services are needed no more, and even then.

My freedom is a sweet sound to be carried in the wind.

 

Rock to erode frustration.

Ballads to erase water droplets.

Jazz to regrow the giggly.

Pop to bring in the livelier.

 

My Music is My Flood.