By Kione
Photo by Jordan Mixon
For her music was meant to reach people, Her notes that stung with emotion, Not bound by rules, She stood there, In front of us all, Fearless. Held her instrument like a weapon, Against the injustice of judgement, The injustice of boundaries. And she created her piece, Of wonder. For the score dictated what is right and wrong,
And how a symphony should be heard rather than just heard.
Yet, she never fell prey,
Her vicarious stance with her petite frame on stood with pride,
Her blonde hair brushing along her skinny back,
Shrouding in the light from the crowd.
And her eyes
Igniting all the colors that could flow out of a dream, For it wasn’t just to hear her, it was to feel her.
A short poem inspired off of Miyazono Kaori from Your Lie in April