Rockstar

He plays his air guitar for an imaginary audience,
Craning his neck back and closing his eyes,
Pretending to play an especially high note...
Bopping his head in time to the consistent beat in his mind.
Longing for the feel of the spotlights glaring down on his face,
To hear the crowd cheer...
Screaming the words to a song that he wrote,
Extending their hands to hold him up, as he does a trust fall off the stage.
...
He's paralyzed from the waist down.
To anyone else watching, they don't hear what he hears when he plays his guitar, or imagine what he does...
But if they could glimpse inside his mind
And be alongside him whenever he hears the electric guitar blaring from the radio,
Then they would understand that, really,
He's already a Rockstar.