Aren't you tired of being used?
They come in and push you around,
And just like that they set you aside.
No purpose but to put up with trash.
Do you get tired of it?
I see the long ends of your hair fray.
And you're worn thin with use.
What did you really want to be?
A bird free into the sky?
Or maybe a river running smoothly across the land.
But you're trapped in that small closet.
Scared to come out and be anything else.
There is so much opportunity,
But you don't grasp it.
You could be so much more than a broom.