Fool's Gold

No longer can I wear the shoes you gave me,

Now I wear some gilded shoes.

My life has changed,

Too many thorns on the road,

Too many murderous clues.

Your shoes can't handle those.

They are for the kingdom of clouds,

Not for my broken defeated toes.

No longer can I write with the pen you gave me,

Now I write with a golden pen.

My diary has changed,

Too rough a paper to write your name,

Too dark a story about wounded men.

For Your pen only wrote,

Some wholesome, romantic love letters,

It was not for the death note.

No longer can I wear the glasses you gave me,

Now I wear one with an aurous frame.

My perception has changed,

Too crimson are scenes with death,

Too many murderers deranged.

Your glasses can only see,

Happy people with ambition,

But not their underlying poisonous debris.

Yet, once in a while,

When the rain lets the petrichor pile,

And all around is filled with the scent of flowers,

I sit by the window and play the guitar for hours and hours.

I play the guitar that you gave me.

I play the songs that you gave me.

My habits have changed,

My feet are blistered,

My thumb has cracks,

My eyes are slowly losing sight,

 Yet with joy I strike,

Those normal guitars strings.

No, they don't have a gold body,

For golden strings can't create a melody.