A grey can under greyer skies
Who knew an inanimate object could cry
Huckey pucks and baseball bats dented
These miserable hurt feelings cemented
Deep inside something with barely a friend
A broken typewriter at its end
A radio that couldn't mend
Yet their love they still send
Even as the tires screech by weekly
Metal on metal screaming yet so weakly
As the object itself is garbage
Thrown across a forgotten bridge
A tin man broken
Over lost and loved tokens
They called it trash
But now his true heart's ash
Who knew an inanimate object could cry
A grey can under even greyer skies.