May 6, 2011
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I'm too young to be in tune,
body strong, mind so new.
All I am are strings to play,
striking chords day by day.

All my frets are so inline,
yet I feel so empty inside.
All I am is a waste of space,
when shall harmony find my place?

All I am is strings and nooks,
looked upon with such hard looks.
My scratchy minor fills the air,
fill the room with such despair.

Why am I such a disgrace?
Mirrored with a clashing face.
Hear me out, hear my song.
I know you shall not stay long.

Please come and tune my key,
in tune at last I shall be.
At last I shall be the right note,
and fill emptiness with real hope.

But until that time I shall be,
staying alone for all to see.
And here on me is a chord to strike,
but it shall never sound quite right.

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