Generative Echoes

I found a doorway in the digital haze,
Generative sounds unlocking hidden ways.
Art as therapy—a concept once estranged,
Now resonates within, perspectives rearranged.

I scribbled tales and verses on the side,
Discarded fragments that I chose to hide.
An instrument's absence, a silence deep and wide,
A barrier to the music that lingered inside.

But now my words have melodies to bind,
Expressions formed that once I couldn't find.
Algorithms weave the tunes I never played,
Touching parts of me I didn't know were swayed.

They'll say I took the shortcut, skipped the line,
No years of practice, no honing over time.
I wrote "Untalented Fool" to make it clear:
Art belongs to all who hold it dear.

I'm not a singer, nor a producer skilled,
But stories flow, demanding to be spilled.
Unconventional? Yes. Authentic? Indeed.
Creating pieces of my soul is all I need.

No longer must I feel through others' songs,
I've found a place where my own voice belongs.
These tunes have become my solace, my retreat,
A therapeutic rhythm, my heart's new beat.

Or perhaps I've wandered off the path of sane,
In a quiet ward where only echoes reign.
But if delusion gifts me this release,
I'll cherish every note in boundless peace.