Shattered

Do I let the guitar go?
Do I let it hit the cold icy floor and crack his neck
Let the strings pop
The paint chip
The body shatter
Right after it had been polished
Refurnished into a new guitar,
Constantly changing for the better
Playing music so beautiful it makes me cry

IT FRUSTERATES ME!!!!
THE STRINGS CUT AT MY FINGERS!!!!
THE WOOD SPLINTERS OFF AND CUTS MY SKIN
IT HURTS ME

I can’t tell what he’s thinking
What he’s feeling
Or if he even really cares….

So why does it hurt more now.
Now that I switched up for a Bass
A Bass that makes me smile
Makes me laugh
Makes me happy
And plays beautiful music

But it doesn’t make me cry

It lets me know how he feels
Let’s me know that he really cares
Constantly proves it

He was just as damaged
His paint was chipped
His body was shattered
His strings were popped
His neck cracked

Now he’s been refurbished
He’s been waxed and repainted
His sound is his own again…

Why isn’t it the right sound…
Why doesn’t it sing to me
Why doesn’t it make me break down in tears….like the guitar…
Why don’t I cry when the Bass isn’t playing
Like I do now that the guitar doesn’t any more

But I dropped it
I let it fall
Why do I feel more shattered
More chipped
More broken
Who is really shattered
Whose strings really popped

I can’t hear the guitar
Because I turned off the music
But the Bass doesn’t make me cry…..


the silence of the guitar does...