In the reserved room built with teenage angst
sat a guitar waiting for a dear friend.
My quick fingers were tentative to touch.
I listened to the chords I brought about—
played a tangle labyrinth. I wish to quit.

Was that a G sharp or a B flat note?
Frustration brews like a furious storm.
I wanted to toss everything away.
This instrument? Not mine. And that is that.
Too embarrassed by my ineptitude.

I loathe guitars! I cannot play them right.
That riff was supposed to be heavy metal.
Not math rock, but it’s enough to settle.
That might change if I use guitar pedals.
Cmon, keep your head high. Let it stay bright.

A friendship with my guitar has begun.
There are bounds I’m still trying not to reach.
And one day, I’ll be good enough to teach
or possess an audience at the beach.
Hey, the guitar is becoming quite fun!

****, metal. I’m a stoner rock artist.
I can play bends, solos, and vibrato.
Look, I even came up with a motto:
to thrive, start with anger in a bottle.
With my advice, you will go the farthest.

My fingers’ pink blush irritates my skin.
Still eager to play. I ignore the sore.
It doesn’t feel like a chore anymore.
This instrument? It’s mine. It led to doors.
It helped me find heaven and become kin.

Forgot what I searched for to find heaven.
But I know that at the age of seven
I seized my mother’s phone and found a god.
He led me to an arresting world with strings.

Strings that swept your hair the way the wind does
when your ego would reach the sparkling skies.
They touched your heart no matter how heartless.

I refused to blink because if I did
I would miss a second of his gentle
fingers gliding across the maple fretboard.
And no sane person would want to miss that!

Strings danced back and forth as he played a chord.
Oh, his fingers grew sore, but calluses
helped desensitize them from aches and pain.

The instrument he mastered was waiting
to call him master cause’ guitars love how
he manipulates and makes them his slave.
Strings begged for his touch, for sounds they could make.

My eyes felt heavier than dense gym weights.
I mustn’t stop gazing if I want to
stay lost in heaven. So **** riveting!

“School is tomorrow.” “******, I forgot.”
“Give the phone back. Hmm, what are you watching?”
“Heaven.” “What did you say?” “I said heaven.”
Mom didn’t say anything afterward.

A few hours came, she asked for the phone.
I gave it to her, prepared my backpack.
Maybe in a different universe.
I would have proclaimed, “Don’t take the phone back.”

A good music can solve your  problems,
A very good one can save your soul.

Eyes beaming to boisterous belly laughs of old friends-
pursuing painted sunsets and cold winds.
Made me feel like a man, from your alcohol and wine.
She said, “where were you when I wasn’t fine?”

Deluded her with my plausible lies, truth be told-
You were forgotten, but I’m not your foe.
Is he a better charmer whose eyes light up your den?
Lost a good friend, cause’ I left for some men.
Oh, how foolish I was, I cried more than I could chew.
Truth is I am not a man without you.

Cause’ I was too scared to say this
I’ll write out what I’m feeling
I know my actions are amiss
Forgot what you were dealing

Am I an awful person?
Thrusting another woman
I didn’t even tell you
****, I didn’t even tell

My words are not permissible
Actions are not respected
I will remain invisible
Until I can accept it

I wish to wither in hell
Abolished by the demons
I didn’t even tell you
****, I didn’t even tell

I admit I cheated on you  
I won’t say this in person
Find somebody who is better
I will not be your burden