A Sonnet for a 5 string instrument

Some came to earth blessed with silver spoon,
Others are astute like Aristotle,
Some dressed to the nines, mingle with rich boon,
Others graced with demure, pure as crystal
While God gave everyone their own bidding
Of talents and things that bring them great joy,
To me empty wit are jusy masks hiding
Your true self, a rather deceptive ploy
Riches be stolen, designers be labelled-torn,
Sweet cravings satisfy less, gold may lose its glow,
Despite what the lackadaisials say
Live life a vagabond, judged all the way,
The strum of my guitar makes a clown weep,
Its vibe acoustics breathe life to a creep