Guitar

Little strands of wire wrapped tightly around

Different sized metal, silver and wound,

Strung over a bridge and then tugged to secure.

So much hitting and whipping they'll endure.

On the other side, coiled and pulled

Tighter and tighter, till what you'd call cruel.

They lie there over a gaping pit
And are beaten, you see, with the terrible pick.

Digging and torturing, sometimes breaking and popping-

Cruelity and heartache pulse without stopping.

They endure such a punishment that seems so sinful,

But if you start listening, the music is beautiful.

Sometimes we need hard expiriences in life.

Sometimes we get stabbed by the world's razor knife.

But out of the sadness, the heartache, the pain,

There is something of so much value then gained.

Those past things that happened create beautiful songs

That we could just listen to repeat for ten hours long.

Because we relate to them, a broken, hard existence,

And we learn from them, get better, to build our resistance

Against life and its threats and its weapons to kill.

Our time that we get here, happiness just waits to fill.