Trouble Bound Poem by Ima Ryma

A string was taking a short stroll,
A sudden brawl got in the way;
A fight between a cup and bowl.
The chips were falling come what may.
Before the string could step aside,
It fell beneath the breakdown pair.
The string was twisted, torn and tied -
Highstrung over this strained affair.
At last, the spat stopped spattering.
The bowl and cup were cracking up.
They gave a handle to the string.
'C'mon - string along, ' said the cup.

Feeling the cuts and lumps he'd got,
The string said, 'No, I'm a frayed knot.'