Give me a cello
I shall play you a melody
And my fingers will compose stories
Over the rustic strings
Give me a knife
I shall peel my skin
And show you the wound
That was born with your words
Give me a needle
I shall make you a quilt
And stich a pattern of wasted time
And infinite bundle of warmth
Give me a shovel
I shall dig my grave
And bury my soul
So you would not have to
Carry my sorrows anymore
I hold nothing sacred now.