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Writer's pictureA.N.M Shaiful Islam

Poetry 3

Updated: Feb 19

People became noises. (I became music)


The clear sound of life is running through my body like a river and I, can't listen to anything else but this constant pouring of truth. Have tried to listen to a broken record with heavy promises in my stomach: hasn't worked in time. Have tried to hear a name for myself out there, in voices that don't belong to my inner intuition, nor trust. I will never do again what sets my soul to noise.


I want to make music with my feeling; everybody, I don't need them to listen nor speak the language I have created. Help hasn't home from other's empty, heavy words when transcribed into my perception of reality. This life has too many sounds to be discovered. It is in streets and friends, in lovers and stars, but skies are higher with no demand from me.

I just want to be music.


Once upon there are no lights in my reach, only, once I go back to the center of my frequency. Everything I have ever needed is inside this body and, more than it, it carries the melody in a perfect tune for me to live in.

People just became out of it.

People became noises to me.

I am in tune with something else.

This is why I became music.


Getting in my studio, building panels to, more than isolate, connect with an essence everyone else fails to foresee. A truth is built within me when nobody else is, nobody else hears, nobody else speaks. I keep adding layers to my depth, music to my soul and, step by step, becoming a soft spoken voice and a scream at the same time which is loud enough to become, not noise, only music.


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