All my gears have been worn thin.
Now, all I do is turn,
But I don't click with anyone.
Nothing catches, nothing goes.
Even my spin has started to slow down.
I'm finally getting a look at what's going on.

Is this all I've been doing my whole life?
Just adding my two cents
To the daily strife and strain?
Ah.
Well.

I hope when some great someone sees
How unproductive I am now,
I'll be taken out of this weird machine
And thrown out,
And like all the rest of the garbage,
Maybe I'll wind up in the ocean.

And maybe, as I lie and rust
Some magic silt will nestle amidst
What used to be my teeth,
And I'll grow back with starfish arms and ossicles,
And be a part of a new hydraulic system,
Instead of a new world order.

-jenn