The Soul of An Abused Fiddle

my decrepit, shellacked, pain it stretches my melodic thinned soul into flickering multi-colored shattered pieces of what could have been (Might-have-been) of sad, no-one gives a dam tunes stroked on loosen string sounding like two lovers crying in the night till my cracking stiffen back slowly bends over as I try an musically scrutinize each fallen departed melody (piece) but my imperfect memories brake my vandalize, person and my meek legs become weakened I buckle and fall shamefully on jagged hostile rocks because I, let myself realize just how forcibly violated I truly am no truer look, need be closer and i fall upon my own bed of soiled grief shouting and crying only to ball up in a self aware hate I loathe, you singing liar not because you stolen my words on paper but how you came about it hurting little souls and tiny young fingers to reach your goals just to sing on a glittering cover hell-bound stage