A conversation with my guitar

Tear drops paint the floor wet

I can see chords come out

From my guitar

It’s trying to tell me something

Something urgent

It can’t wait, it says

But I must not listen

You’re a guitar, I say

You don’t understand me

But I understand you

 

 

Author: Jack Bennett

Born and raised in Torquay, England. 21 years old. Teeming with thoughts that need an outlet, working a full time job at his local supermarket. Unfortunately born a poet, he will most likely suffer from this contradiction most of his life.

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