singing
Singing atop of my lungs, wailing the tunes half-heartedly, releasing the air of opression, repression, and that utterly unspeakable depression that was so difficult to shake. My forehead clung a layer of coldsweat. I heaved a sigh, and smiled.
It wasn't just for the singing or for the song, it was allowing my vocal cords to be free, my whole being to be heard. And for a moment, the whole world heard me, and heard the agony lifted from the dimly lit room.
It wasn't just for the singing or for the song, it was allowing my vocal cords to be free, my whole being to be heard. And for a moment, the whole world heard me, and heard the agony lifted from the dimly lit room.
