( Naisha’s sweet attempt at modern poetry)

I would be shiny black,
Made of the finest wood,
Cut out by the finest hands,
Played by an awesome guitarist,
In front of a thousand people,
Along with the heavy drums,
The sweet keyboard, and the loud speakers!

Would I be happy as a guitar?
Oh, no! My strings could get tangled up!
I wonder if that would happen!
Till then, I’ll keep singing!