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 Caliph Cross

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Join date : 2018-01-24

PostSubject: Caliph Cross   Wed Jan 24, 2018 1:52 pm

I walked across the stage and the silence ruptured as the energy of the audience struck the stage like glaives of light. Not a single glaive struck me though, and I closed my eyes.
Why is it missing...
I took my seat and let my fingers hover above the keys, willing the piano to become an extension of me.
"A ballad first?" Soft murmurs came from the crowd in confusion.
I know they came to see me dance and bring the energy but I couldn't feel the rising wave. Perhaps this will open the channels of my talent.
I began to play and even though the crew would chew my ass out later for it, I needed to shock myself as well.
"A new song?" amazed cheering. They think they will be their to witness the birth of something incredible but...
"Scattered echoes of the words... Read the covenant, endow in me."
I bent my head, needing to be closer to the origins of the music, whether that be my own heart or thr piano whispering to me.
"Carve a new path for me, Broken down, torn the wings from me."
Is this my truth? Is this my eulogy. Or is this my needing to be saved.
"Return. Return. Return to me, by this decree. Guide my soul back to eternity. String the chords of this failed light, I won't sit here I need the fight."
I stood and took center stage, letting the anger burn away the melancholy that I had begun to create.
I began to dance, letting the frustration seek solace in my limbs because my heart was too confining to give them the space they needed to be seen.
This, this isn't me. This performance is cold, it's like I'm scultping every transition in ice but I am not the ice, I do not know what is frozen within it. I am but the sculptors depiction of what he assumes the patron wants.
I continued to sing. You sing for what you need in that moment, but I did not know what I needed, hadn't in a long time.
Time became a therapist that sat and nodded sleepily as I confessed what I thought might be going on until the session ended and the crowd burst into sincere applause. Until our next session.
I feastes my eyes upon the audience, always needing to absorb their reactions, to find the truth in the mirror they represented and I found...tears?
Why are they crying? Because the performance was pathetic? Because they can see that already I have begun my decline?
Their expressions were not critical nor condemning but rather, some turned to hug one another.
Fans reached for me, but I could not go to them. They came here for Caliph not for...what I am now.
The audience stood and clapped long after I could no longer hear the sound, only the percussion in my bones.
My manager grabbed me and wrapped his arms around me, trying to bury my face in his shoulder when I walked backstage and I couldn't understand why. What had the music revealed to them!? Why was I the only one it did not speak to!?
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