The guy left me untuned,

Went to change clothes,

The light comes through the slits,

I see movment passed,

As rays pick up dust in the air,

Then disappear in sequence.

I’ll tell you, it’s lonely.

Is this what i was made for?

The guy thought he could impress,

Get the girls looking,

But I’m just a ukulele,

Not a six string fretless.

Anyways definitely not a bass,

Which is what girls really dig.

I’m just stranded here,

Left among his junk.

Maybe he won’t pick me up again,

It’s not like he had any talent.

Beside me i see other victims,

Of his need to impress.

Skateboard, juggling balls.

He’s such a loser.

If he acted more real,

He’d still be lonely,

But at least,

I would still be in the relative heaven ,

That is a musical instrument store,

The cool back room.

Crap, he’s coming again..

She picks me up,

Careful as always, gentle.

Giving each string a pluck, Awakening the coils of metal.

As we begin to sing the melody,

She's only echoing the words,

It's different, how she holds me,

I'm hollow when she's playing chords.

Something's not right with us,

But I swear I'm still in tune,

She's touching me, so meticulous, There's no feeling in the way she moves.

So I stretch my neck back,

And she instantly responds,

To tighten up my slack,

And she continues to play along,

But the song is still off key,

My sound dampened by her tears, The way she's holding me, gently, Feels different after all these years.

Softly, gently, my chords are plucked. The touch of ginger pain. as the music plays, I feel a droplet fall, more droplets fall, it must have started to rain. A cracked voice begins to sing chords I’ve never heard, and it starts to rain harder. I hope they take me inside soon, or I’ll warp. The music is slow and melodic, and the voice is now a whisper, and notes come out between choking sobs. the voice stops as they put me down,covered in rain.