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Strings
You play a soft and soothing
lullaby
When my strings are present to the public eye
But I know
Those sweet notes are just for show
For when the doors are closed
You play a sourer note
You bash the guitar
A bruise
A bruise
You strum so hard
You win
I lose
You pluck until your fingers bleed
You bite
You damage
To fill your need
I watch you play nothing
But love songs all day
But this is not love.
It's not love, I'm afraid
You kick and punch until my strings snap
I watch as you tip another bottle back
So beautiful and precious
As you were once too
But I was beaten and broken
Now I play only the blues
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This is just a little poem I conjured up in my head, it doesn't relate to or have to do with me in any shape or form. Just something to think about. I think this poem could be a conversation starter maybe.