Plucking Hell

Fingers permanently etched with lines,
Constant aching in my neck,
As I long to play some chords,
However long it takes,

But you won't allow this victory,
Your playing hard to get,
As I study every perfect string,
Ponder over each and every fret,

On the radio I hear perfect guitars,
Envious of well practised skill,
Hours later by the light of the stars,
Goes my patience and my will,

Tabs are going over my head,
They fill my dreams at night,
How can I pick my destiny,
When nothings going right?

So savage mistress with shapely form,
Who won't warm to my touch,
I'll be perservering now,
Until it's you that's had enough.