I'm a guitar
I'm a guitar
So a craftsman made a guitar
Eight years later he died
Before anyone mastered it
Now it's playing well
Many love it but a few understand it
So who will repair the guitar?
The guitar maker or should l say dad
Who does that?
Make a creation and just disappear
Honestly l used to hate you for that
I don't know maybe l still do
We don't have to pretend that we're cool
Only if you could hear me now
But you can't because you're dead!
Dead! Dad how could you leave us for the grave?
So l had to learn to ride a bike by myself
At first, l fell and missed you even more
I thought you would come back, pick me up and
Say "you got this son" l waited and waited
Dude you never came back
I tried for the second time, the bike wasn't easy
Trust me l broke my hand
That moment still reminds
My soul that l don't meet anyone's demands
The third time, l had the guts
I rode the bike to places for the first time
Places like that science fair you didn't attend
Places like that father and son vacation
Places like teaching me how to wear a belt
Places like the graveyard you lay
Dad, it feels nice to finally say it
I missed you my whole childhood
I wanted to see you in that 7th grade picture
I wish you was here man..I.. I'm sry
So now the guitar you made plays
It plays beautiful melodies that goes with synonyms
It's music everytime l write poetry
Your guitar or your son is doing well
I really hope you continue to rest in peace!
Dad
Atipaishe Taruona.
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