He saw me on the other side of the glass-
the chasm which separates us into two different worlds
His eyes were filled with wanting.
'twas all over his face, he didn't need any words.
I was full of music and vigor within me
And his hands were meant to play
I was alone, he was so lonely
We guessed, we're meant for each other that day
He took me, regardless my worth
Everybody knows why I'm guarded.
I'm priceless, I can't just be sold;
But he was an extreme, he gets what he wanted.
So, I thought he'd care for me,
He'd sing melodies and I'd create gladness...
Yet after he learned his inability,
He strummed nothing but madness.
He plucked off my voice,
He threw me against the wall,
He lifted me up to the ceiling
and I had a great fall!
He left me broken and very cold;
I suffered from the hands of a madman.
'He was merely a player, he didn't deserve you, ' I was told.
Despite how I looked, how I've been, atlast I'm with a guitarman.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Difficult to decide a cry or a smile of a guitar on being played by a guitar man so wildly.
Indeed, friend. Thank you! :)
Thank you. :) Indeed, friend.