Circles under eyes and hair gone wild
First glance, your perception would be a scientist, deranged
This is the look of a disturbed musical prodigy,
Who’s ability to hear had been detained
Over time he grew cantankerous, a man you could unintentionally irk
His putrid sense of life and dull demeanor quickly became his quirk
He is the cornerstone of all music, a perpetual gem
Robbed of his love and hearing, his druthers would’ve been a limb
Tone deaf, he’d play a series of harsh piano notes,
This capacity could not be learned
He had great courage and poignant humor,
When he uttered, “Ist es nicht schön?"
Despite the dilemma, over time, more works surely came
They were engulfed by personal experience
He had a burning passion, for his music, that no illness could tame
Family problems and illness grew, so he fell subject to a glass
He spent the last fragment of his life in bed, waiting on time to pass

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