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.