I want a guitar now, don't know how to play the thing;I tried once before but gave up when I broke a string. I want to make some music, make some kind of noise shed,Something that can reflect what's going on in my head. Something that knows what's changing when I don't know what's wrong.I want it to show me myself and guide me along. I want it to play my heart and show I'm not alone,To tell me all can come out that's infused in each bone.  I want to play it though it hurt my hands I am sure.I want my fingers to hurt; I want them to blister. I want them to bleed, bleed out the sorrows of my heart.I want the wounds to scar so it won't fully depart. I want a guitar here though I don't know what I'll play,Probably nothing- It'd stay on my lap where it lay. It wouldn't make a sound for I wouldn't strum the strings,But my fingers would fret them as my mind frets dark things. Then I'd hear something- I'd hear the guitar making sounds.A soft and percussive noise with each tear it resounds. The pressure of the pain in my chest needs to be freed.It won't come out my fingers- I can't get them to bleed. So they flow from my eyes, they make music on the stringsand drum upon the wood, soft, irregular beatings. The sound of my heart and all the pain that therein lies,It washes out of me and it falls down from my eyes. I grip the neck harder, on each finger a red line.Now the pain comes from my fingers, from my aching spine. It shimmers from shaking shoulders, from vibrating legsIt comes out of my mouth in silent sobs, sighs and begs. It empties from my mind, and my eyes begin to see.It empties from my heart, I'm starting to feel free. I start to sit up though I had been feeling so weak,then I wipe off the last, still glistening on my cheek.