When I strum my magical guitar,

The world begins to float.

Butterflies emerge from nowhere,

Dancing to each note.

Forest fairies swoop from on high—

Their voices soft, entrancing.

The earth feels calm, at peace, alive,

And flowers join in dancing.

When I strum my cursed guitar,

The leaves and blossoms fade.

A heavy sorrow fills the air,

And hope begins to wane.

The notes feel out of tune.

The world turns cold and dark—

No sun, no stars, no moon.

What mood are you in today?

Which guitar shall I pick up and play?