Using my instrument of pleasure
Bringing joy to others around
It is also seen as a great treasure
An inanimate object making sound
Years of practice needed to be a master
At first it was like playing on broken glass
Pushing to be better, play it faster
To reach the next level needed to pass
The slide of steel beneath my flesh
My fingers howled the first time they sliced
Playing through pain, cuts always seem fresh
All for a life now seen by many as overspiced
But I wouldn't change a single thing
Playing sweet sounds, filling others with joy
Playing with passion, making my guitar sing
A tool for my amusement, but never a toy
The comforting weight hanging from its strap
Strings vibrate, taking me to another place
Saving me from falling into life's baited trap
When used right its light is reflected on every face.
©Josh West
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