He waits, lonesome, needing for
someone to claim him as their own.
He is purchased by a little girl,
a demon in disguise, only wanting him
for her own entertainment: destruction.

He sleeps uncomfortably, pinned up
along the wall. He hopes he will be
returned to his previous owner,
although he realizes that will
NEVER happen in a million years.

He prays to avoid the show
since he knows that is where he will
encounter his demise. The young girl
will snap his neck and he will die
in a New York minute.

Luckily, the curtain went up, and
the demonic entity decided to kill a
different innocent. He knows the girl will,
undoubtedly, choose him next. He will
nevermore be a part of this earth again.

He longs to be loved, nothing more,
nothing less. He craves a family who loves
him, for him, not his looks. He wishes
to live his life to the fullest,
not perish in a blink of an eye.

This little lad will not go down
without a fight. He is full of life,
never settles for anything less than perfect.
He will push forth and surpass this short,
miserable, lifestyle known as living.

He envies those who do not have the same
fate as him, getting to prosper in loving homes.
No one really cares about him here; and
his new family? They just want him to die,
so they no longer have to suffer.

When he is played, he listens to the calming,
soft, music he exhales. He relaxes. He thinks.
“Maybe there is more to living,” he wonders.
He is about to accept his death, but the girl--
the demonic girl -- returns him.

He lives on for years in the musty shop,
thankful, yet sad, because no one is willing
to purchase the lonesome, used guitar.