Unfortunate Strings

Stretched tightly across the threshold of this life are strings of love
Whose vibrations once resonated voraciously
That now lie feverish in their idleness
Rust settles across the once well polished wires
Decaying in the acrid air of insipidity
Perfect in their imperfection
Slender in their imagination
Form beneath function
And function under-formed

Craving delicate touches of angelic fingers
The disenfranchised diluvial dream
Somehow still bearing sullen weight of potentiality 
The map of this tragedy has been well read
Malformed and maddening
Such is the plight of under played strings
Unplucked and unfulfilled.