Violin-Tempered

There are four corners of my room
And there are four corners of my rue,
Before me was a pen, bored and blue
Behind me was a paper, flying by the crew

'Swiftly I will cry,
For tomorrow never dies
An empty bottle reflected upon my eyes
Drowned in my own world, freezing like ice'

Wide-spread wings through the air it freezes
Fingers, so cold it could hardly breathe,
Clenching my heart, I tore it apart
Down, down I went, parting to my abyss;

'I am an accompaniment never accompanied,
for I'm not an accompaniment, ready to serve
I am a lone violin -- I shall never sing --
For this day, even in the days to come;

'I am tired and worn,
I'm a rag that's always worn
My dress will be cuffed
Like the strings so tough'

No one heard my voice,
No one heard my cries,
No one will reach for me,
No one will share my warmth;

I will compose a song,
No matter how these fingers would shake --
Nor how this bow would strike my heart;
So I will cry and cry.