genre

Learn more about other poetry terms

When I pick up my instrument,  I feel as if all my fears melt away, Everything and everyone slowly fade, That’s when I begin to play. I feel as if all my fears melt away,
Stage lights, clear stage, waiting crowd outside. Until it is my moment to go, Behind this curtain I will abide.   I feel my innumerable heart beats Simulate a drum roll audible to only my ears.
Music is what makes you move Music is what makes you groove Music can be good or bad depending on how it's used Music can make you choose different clothes to wear Music can make you change your hair
I just can’t do it. I can’t stick to just one. My tastes are like skittles, Like markers, Like crayons, Like the whole color spectrum.   You somehow stick to pop.
Subscribe to genre