Plucking the strings
Notes circulate the walls
Echoing endlessly

Playing again
The Melody rises and falls
The notes live in harmony

But the fingers slip
Sliding past the metallic chord into the air
But with such grace redeems itself

With the deceived hidden imperfection

Crowd applauds
Admiring an outward dillusion

The sound ain't right
There is a missing note
Without it the chord is never complete

--Screwed