Violinist

She took the violin,

But there was violence around her.

Violin lay in eternal silence.

The poet could not write

His poem. His rhymes went wrong. 

The Artist felt his 

Art. His paintings spoke lies.

Stars filled with darkness,

Sailor lost his way. 

In this 21st Century, 

Less memory power and more drugs,

There is no moral to follow,

They followed their eyes,

Hands are Chummed with alcohol.

She couldn't play the violin,

Because of silence in her. 

She is restless,

She wept in pain,

She couldn't play the fiddle,

Her hands are tied to mobile phones.

Once favourite become bitter.

This Century made her lazy,

She wished to play at her mobile,

Rather than playing the fiddle.

Once music was her medicine,

Now

Mobile was her medicine.