Sonnet: Heart of a Pianist

Pale, trembling fingers press piano keys.

Unsure notes resound in the quiet room.
Melodies swimming lost in endless seas,
Music ceasing, now refusing to bloom.
Frustration building to a crescendo,
Hopelessness brimming in a heavy heart,
Asking why must a play the piano?
I cannot be a genius like Mozart.
Judging eyes evaluate empty skill.
Emotions are no more in the music,
Just movements that move only to fulfill
Lost passion, like igniting a dead wick.
But music lives forever in my soul,
A broken part, but one that makes me whole.

By: Ashley Xuzhao