He walked into the spotlight, he sat down.
He took a deep breath, and calmed himself.
He placed his hands slowly on the keys, and he stared at the blank score in front of him.
The stage was quiet, he prepares his requiem, his melody, his finale.
He pushed down onto the key, initiating the birth of his song.
He gradually switched the pedals and lifted his fingers, as if he was learning to walk.
A slow rhythm for such a mundane childhood, he stroked the key as if he had known it forever.
The pace, as if the clock would never strike tomorrow.
The melody grew old, he wanted to change the pace; he stepped up the tempo.
Throwing in incomprehensible chords, he confused himself with the beauty of his uncertainty.
The simplicity of his childish rhythm faded, and he realised his uselessness.
He failed to comprehend what he was playing.
He didn’t know where to direct his hands, as if every key might be a mistake.
He slowed down to comprehend his steps, but his pace quickened again.
As if he was going nowhere, but he still searched for an exit.
He stroked the keys chaotically and melancholic tones resonated.
The speed incomprehensible, it made a hymn he failed to hear.
The tone grew old, and he tried to repeat the notes he had played.
He could hardly recall the chaotic past of his composition.
He sought out the foolishness within his rhythm, he realised them.
He played the cheerful moments with a slow rhythm, as he never wanted to escape that feeling.
He played his fears quickly with an uneven pace, as if trying to run away.
The song grew weary, and he found closures, as he ended his piece in harmony.
He played his life, pleased as if he told his story to the world. He took a deep breath and sighed.
He covered his keys. A relinquished feeling, as if he was no longer attached to his burden.
He clasped his hands and closed his eyes.
He waited for the curtains to fall, the lights to fade, the echoing applause, and the tears to flow.
He looked away from the wall, and out to the stage.
The curtains were opened, and the lights are shining.
He looked outward and not one person was in the room.
He had played his entire life, but no one was there.