The cello began to make demands.
"You must make allowances for me," it said.
"I am overfilled with grief, like a suicide's bathtub."
"I will bow you more gently," said the girl.
"Gently shmently," said the cello.
"Make me a tree again, restore my rings and skin."
"Cash me ousside, how bow da?" said the girl.
"Cry me a river, cello.
We both moan from inside our changed bodies,
Bowed by handsy players who take bows for our fracaso."
for Sunday Muse #163.
fracaso--Spanish for defeat, ruin, downfall, calamity, destruction