Claiming My Masterpiece.

By Astha Agrawal

If I could, I’d whisper it to the stars,  

Let secrets spill from their silver jars.  

But what if even they turn a blind eye,  

And my echoes fade into the sky?

I never wished to be the melody’s art,  

Just a quiet snare - a beat, a part.  

Yet they say I’m less, a cowbell at best,  

A sound too hollow, a note unimpressed.

The tragedy is, these ‘they’ - they aren’t my own,  

Not friends, not family, just voices unknown.  

Then why does their weight still shackle me?  

The question remains - is it them, or is it just me?

The music was never theirs to keep,  

nor their murmurs meant for me to repeat,  

I ascend - not waiting for another encore, 

but blazing my rhythm forevermore. 

And if I am but a cowbell, let my echo ring,  

not hollow or meek, but a vibrant offering,  

For no one else holds the pen to me, 

I am my masterpiece, unchained and free! 

By Astha Agrawal