Does our pain really make us?

I write sad music. I pour everything into it. I don’t really play for anyone but it’s still mine.

No one will put those notes in that order with the same inflection as me. It can’t be replicated. It’s mine alone. But it hurts.

Is it worth it?

Every song just wind through the trees. Noise in the signal. Mine, played by no one but me.

But is that enough?