Steel veins

Everybody think you're a hollow single piece of wood.
They think you're cold, inert, empty.

They're all mad.

They haven't felt your feelings.
They haven't cried resting their chins on your warm wood skin.
They haven't heard you talk, laugh, scream, whisper.
They haven't lost track of time playing with you like we were children.
They haven't listened how you say all without words.
Their wounds haven't been cured by your sweet sound.
They haven't revived playing you.

But I have.

You've given me wings to escape from the painful noise.

My friend, my old friend... Thank you.

My blood runs through your strings.