A seizure plays its tunes in minor key,
the untuned music in a minor key
that screeches STOP! to all that pleases me.

Its dissonance makes nonsense in my brain,
nonsensical the dissonance. My brain
no longer hears the rhythms as they wane.

I play piano, use my hands with skill.
The many lessons have increased my skill,
but seizures cause my hands to then be still.

I love my life and want to live it well,
I try, o do I try to live it well
but seizure often throws me into hell.

I wait for melodies and songs to hear,
but dread the obbligato cast in fear.