A Fiddle Out Of Tune

I looked at my face in the mirror one day
And thought of how rigid it looks
Just like a fiddle
Clad,
Collected,
Sad,
Conceited
How a human body resembles a treble
Or perhaps it's the other way around
Curved,
Graceful,
Proud,
And bashful
It was after the first time I touched a violin
And fell in love at first sight
How nice it would be, I thought
To carry myself like a Stradivarius
One of a kind, so rare to find
Exhaled, authentic and ageless
Carved with care
Polished and pared with affection
And amazed I was when I found
How different it sounds
When loving fingers caress its skin
And how it would chide in a arrogant yowl
When its strings are roughly struck
How it would squawk like it has a soul
When its E-strings are wrongly tucked
It happened once that,

Under the pressure of my bow

A string on my fiddle snapped
And hurt my chin
Felt as if I offended a lover
Wounded my significant other
And received a smack so hard
It left an invisible scar on my skin
But I felt the pain of the offender
A roaring storm of thunder
Protesting against my blunder
And bitterness seeped within
It found my blood runs,  infused with my veins
And numbed my perception
My heart ? It contorted, and I learnt that cords
Much like human emotions
Are to be handled with great care
And when I'm not feeling well
My fiddle smells my melancholy
And relaxes its strings
It breaks the rhythm of Vivaldi's Spring
And I wouldn't even notice
That my friend is making noises
Because, you see, there is no greater swoon
More pleasure to the senses
Than a fiddle that's out of tune
But still trying to recompense