By Manav Khatri
You are the tune my fingers make,
But not the music my heart plays;
Yours are the vocals that buzz my mind,
But they lack the rhythm I aspire to find;
You want me to be the answer for all the prayers you have sung,
How is it then that every chords of it have come undone;
Inside you is a symphony,
That I believe wasn't really meant for me;
I wonder if you could ever be the pieces I want for my song,
Or you are just somebody else's violin that's playing along.