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one line.

Billy rested in the morning quietude, resembling a log. He had managed to fall asleep amidst thoughts and comings and goings, accompanied by the gentle snores of his polite roommate who had seemingly agreed to share the room with young Billy. His second day at the hospital officially began at 6 in the morning. He slept peacefully until 7 a.m., awakening to the hospital's revitalization.

Joseph was already reading the newspaper, with his gold-framed glasses and drooping cheeks, muttering about the weather, gleaned from the newspaper he read every morning to have something to talk about throughout the day.

Billy went to his bag, finding enough paper and pencils to jot down the song he was about to write. Not finding any black ink, he ended up writing it in blue ink. Fortunately, his handwriting remained the same, perfectly legible. He was grateful for this because his concentration and patience had been stolen. He calmly penned down the lyrics that lingered in his mind.

Hospital days passed like swift moments, devoid of television and lacking the usual activities. Billy continued to write and attempted to draw, though he couldn't quite capture the correct form in his sketches. Frustration surged through his neural system as he failed at something he once loved so much—drawing. What do you do when everything you once had slips into oblivion? Without dwelling on it further, he decided to continue writing a song on his own, one that would inspire him to release all the resentment in his heart—a creation entirely his own.

Manner of existence[1]

I awoke in a bed of grass, With my senses clouded, Around me, only inert shadows, They were people.

What passed through my mind,

perhaps it was a dream,

My head played a trick on me,

I was living a life,

A life that wasn't mine.

I pushed my bad vibes to the shore,

May the cold water wash away my sin,

May the cold water cleanse my pain,

May the cold water clear my confusion.

There, in a dark square,

The shapes of my life oscillated

Like an infinite camera,

I watched the video of my life, and I dreamed of a new life.

What do you do if tomorrow your life changes? Well,

distance yourself from the cobwebs,

I pushed my bad vibes to the shore,

May the cold water wash away my sin,

May the cold water cleanse my pain,

May the cold water clear my confusion.

My realization is to move forward,

As if it were a job,

Forgetting about my economic state,

I am no longer the person I was yesterday,

Now I can look at faces,

I say hey to the gang members,

I dedicate myself to laughing as if it were my birth.

The blue marker wrote as if it were a poet. Billy wrote three more songs after receiving a flan and some food in plastic containers. After a while, all that remained was to write. Joseph was as silent as ever, and Billy needed a bath, but it was better to wait until they removed the neck brace;, his neck and chest were injured, but he felt fine, as his smile demonstrated.

-Billy, sweetheart. – said his mother from the door, completely composed at the sight of her little angel writing happily; he looked so cute with that smile.

-Mom. –

-Today I brought something delicious to eat. – said Agustina, approaching to give a kiss on her little boy's forehead, - I stopped by the mall to buy something, but they didn't have chorizo. I decided to make you grilled meat in sauce, and some asparagus salad. I brought your favorite gummies, but that's after lunch, my beautiful boy. – The mother continued to brighten up the room with her charm; even old Joseph was more lively. Agustina opened the windows, and cleared the curtains; with her divine charm, the mood of everyone in the room went up three notches, and it was inevitable that Billy couldn't help but sigh with joy.

-The food sounds fantastic, Mom. – said Billy, smelling the flavor of the meat. After the plastic plate, there was a scent that captivated Billy's olfactory senses.

-I like this dish. – said Billy, somewhat hastily to taste the food.

Agustina, who was very wise for her age, brought a second meal and served it to old Joseph, who blushed like an irate one of the seven dwarfs being attended by Snow White. As he got older, he received fewer details, but he treasured them more.

-I know you like it. Your mother knows well the food she prepares. I brought Coca-Cola; you know, here, fruit isn't good to ferment throughout the day, and it's better to drink the spark of your life. – said Agustina.

-It's delicious, ma'am. You're a cook at the level of my late wife Bianca. – said old Joseph with unheard-of happiness. In less than ten minutes, he lost twenty years; he no longer had wrinkled cheeks, and his eyebrows rose like a caricature of committed happiness.

-I feel flattered.– she responded confidently and tenderly.

They both ate as if someone was going to take the food away; they cleared the delicious food. She just nodded happily that they liked it. One of the pleasures was seeing the happy faces that her cooking brought.

-Mother, I have something for you. – said Billy, handing her the two songs, one titled "Like a Stone" and the other "Manner of Existence."

-What's this? – asked Agustina.

-They're songs. Can you help me register them? The process can be done online, but I need $90, and $45 for both. On my desk in a blue envelope, there should be $120; I'll use it to register these songs. My teacher Spencer will help me record a demo of the song, and we'll present them to some California record companies. The teacher says I have a talent for singing. – said Billy.

-Wow, son, you wrote these songs! Of course, we'll make the corresponding payment. Do we need any specific format or something? – Agustina asked.

-No need, it's done online. It's a simple process for registering original works. – Billy said, well aware that he had a lot of experience with copyright, and a few words from Spencer helped him pull himself together.

-Have you already registered them? – Agustina asked.

-I haven't done it yet. – Billy said.

-Can it be done by mail? – she asked.

-I can, but we need to fill out a form and send it to the office in San Diego. – Billy said.

-Well, that's easier for me. I think we can find an internet café nearby. – Agustina said, going along with Billy's suggestion.

-There's an internet café two blocks away. You can go and print some forms, and tomorrow morning, you can submit a request. Or you can go yourself and register online. Although I don't trust those computers – Joseph said.

-We'll do it by mail. – Billy said, knowing his limitations, handing the two songs to Agustina, who nodded.

-But... wouldn't you like to sing to your mother? It's only fair." – Agustina said.

-I can just let me warm up a bit. – Billy said, doing breathing exercises. This song had a certain difficulty in singing due to its wide range and complexity, but he had extensive practice.

-Here I go. I'll try to give it my all. – Billy said, swallowing. The first stretch was always a bit challenging to sing.

On a cobweb afternoon

In a room full of emptiness

By a freeway I confess

I was lost in the pages

Of a book full of death

Reading how we'll die alone

And if we're good, we'll lay to rest

Anywhere we want to go

In your house, I long to be

Room by room, patiently

I'll wait for you there

Like a stone

I'll wait for you there

Alone

Billy's voice was powerful and continued to ignite that spark, his own, that spark that could only drive people mad with the talent to express emotions in his songs. And although Agustina didn't fully understand the song, it didn't matter because the song scraped at those sensitive emotions like a spatula.

And on my deathbed I will pray

To the gods and the angels

Like a pagan to anyone

Who will take me to heaven

To a place I recall

I was there so long ago

The sky was bruised

The wine was bled

And there you led me on

In your house, I long to be

Room by room, patiently

I'll wait for you there

Like a stone

I'll wait for you there

Alone

Alone

And on I read

Until the day was gone

And I sat in regret

Of all the things I've done

For all that I've blessed

And all that I've wronged

In dreams until my death

I will wander on

In your house, I long to be

Room by room, patiently

I'll wait for you there

Like a stone

I'll wait for you there

Alone

Alone[2]

Silence once again filled the room, and Joseph, the oldest, in the last years of his life, felt as if he were 25 again, listening to Elvis Presley live—a song so sentimental that it struck a chord in his being.

-You've got a gift, young man. Let me pay you the copyright fees. Let them say that I, Joseph Clenf, am the sponsor of the next Elvis Presley, - Joseph said, pulling out his wallet, a hundred-dollar bill, and a gesture of resignation to the song he had just heard, which illuminated his life.

-Mr. Joseph, you shouldn't bother, - Agustina said, awakened from the dream induced by her son. Seeing his passion for singing gave her the idea that no matter what happened, Billy would always have something of his own, even as a gang member; singing would guide him on the right path.

-Agustina, you're like a sun illuminating my cloudy morning. Your son's talent is something that allowed me to vent, to be part of something that will last a long time, - Joseph said.

A name that would be engraved in an ending, a finale, spoken by Billy Carson himself when later asked where the farewell "Joseph" came from. He would tell the story of an old Joseph Clenf who gave him the money for registration with the condition that he would sing to him again.

-Thank you, Mr. Joseph, - Billy said.

-You, young man, you must sing to me again - Joseph said.

.......

[1] I wrote it myself; it's a song representing Billy's silence in his new life. Now, all he knows how to do is play music. The style is alternative rock, soft, not too loud.

[2] "Like Stone" by Audioslave, is a song that leaves anyone speechless.

...

I keep receiving your comments that fill me with wisdom to improve my writing, likewise, I've been writing a couple of extra chapters, and I still have to polish them. Have a nice day.

this fanfic, was made for the taste of music, what songs would you recommend or are good, no matter the genre. although I have a preference for those who have good lyrics.

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!

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