Perfectly Blended As One

This might be a little weird, but I wrote this poem because of my love to create music.

The strings under my fingers;  
not making them linger. 
Placed where they should be; 
Fitting together so perfectly. 

I long to hear the constant strumming. 
I don't care who is out there listening. 
The guitar's distortion is my passion; 
the clean sound will soon enough be in action. 

The pick is already held in hand; 
the amp is turned up for me and the band. 
The moment is so close; is so near. 
Everyone can hardly wait to hear. 

The song being intensely played 
gives all my buried feelings away. 
I sing with all of my bleeding heart; 
hoping things won't fall apart. 

I can't explain what's happening. 
Inside, I let go of everything I bring. 
This is what I've waited for; 
to lay my sensibility out on the floor. 

We're all perfectly blended as one 
from the bass to the stunning drums. 
The rhythm and beats; we've got it made 
until the last vibration of my strings start to fade.