Due to your mother's reassurance,
And the belief that I could bring procurance
For your 16th birthday
I gifted you my Violin
Expected your breath to be taken away
And it immediately placed under your chin
Never imagined such a gesture be forsaken
Oh, how I couldn't have been more mistaken
Rated it a mere 7/10
Took it into your room and then
It was never looked at, let alone played, again
No worse insult was ever undertaken
Two months later, when I returned
I took back my present that you spurned
But was stopped at the airport
By a uptight, haughty bitch:
'Your instrument isn't valid for transport'
Without remorse, the evil witch
'Chose between that or your suitcase
'Or create £50 from empty space.'
Her anger onto me, wasn't fair
I don't care if her day did assault
Because after all, it's not my fault
She works for shitty Ryanair
I inquired, trying to keep a peace of mind
'What will happen, if it leave it behind?'
'It will be incinerated.'
'WHAT?!'
'That's how the policy is fated.'
Got on the plane hyperventilating
With hatred and anger powerfully pulsating
Called my auntie for help, breaking down into tears
'Help me! My violin! Please help me!' Was all I could plea
Before a nice stewardess came up to me:
'It's been put on the plane, have no fears.'
Maybe that's when I started to disengage
Because of my greatly repressed outrage
Exacerbated by the gall
Of your indifference to my torment
None of which would have occurred at all
If you'd just played the fucking instrument
To this day, I still haven't a clue
How my luck had miraculously come through
But at least there's still a chance it can bring someone to glory
And will never be chucked down a furnace bin
And that is the woeful story
Of my poor, old Violin
YOU ARE READING
Tales of Bygone Lovers
PoetryThis is the collection of poems and song lyrics I wrote during and after my first three relationships and one of my crushes. Although some of them will be soppy, all of them were written to help me express my feelings at the time. One of the only go...