Weeping Guitar

Well I've got this guitar, that usually sings
A couple pills, and some scars
And I gently pluck all the strings
While gazing at the stars

My guitar begins to weep
Each strum echoes my pain
The sharp chords cut so deep
Bitter loneliness is driving me insane

So I strum to free my soul
But not a tune is heard
Unable to fill my empty hole
But I don't say a word

Each strum seems to kill
And I'm living each day with lies
There are too many holes to fill
All I want to do is forever close my eyes.

poem by Chelsea Wallace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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