A simple reminder that better times will come.
Old, forgotten music instruments can be seen everywhere.
A sign of the resistance -a rebellion they didn’t expect.
One day they came, and took it all away,
it was part of their plan to make us glorious again.
The world turned dark, the music stopped, the laughter died.
The rich filled their pockets, the poor were forgotten.
Diversity was outlawed, fear and hatred were spread.
But soon the voting will begin,
and then the nightmare will be over.
The music will start to play again,
People will dance and the future will begin.
My fingers were kidnapped by my brain and I watched helplessly on the sideline how the piece wrote itself in lightning speed. This was out of my control.
101 words for the Friday Fictioneers, who hopefully will not kick me to curb now.