The bow sways from life to death

 
Sounding the songs of her severed heart.

 The tunes cry out with their final breath

Knowing their maker will soon depart.

The mournful melodies dance in the air

Twirling and falling on broken notes.

 She sings for a savior through desperate prayer

On a cloud of rosin her longing floats.

The bowing slows and starts its last glide

As her strings grow weary with every touch.

 Her life then ends with a crack from inside,

The player then knows she was used far too much.