My guitar sits there
staring at me, waiting to be played.
It gives me a small smirk of joy
when i plug it into the amplifier.
When i make a mistake it gives me feedback
'wrong note' it says.
It's an amazing friend,
if I'm happy, it's happy
if I'm sad, it is too.
But it's also selective, it wont play for just anyone
if you can't handle it right, it won't play for you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem