The Dirty Shed

The people I want to care the most
Never seem to care at all
They smile and laugh
As they see me fall
I don't matter to them
I'm just a spec of dirt they can't get out
Of their picture-perfect
white-collared
scum-free life
Now look at me...

I'm falling apart
Again and again
I dig a hole
They push me in
I find a rope
They tear it to shreds
Every time I find hope
They burry it with the dead

It doesn't matter though
I will never matter though
Not to those I need
I'm just a tool they keep
In the dirty shed
Filled with those skeletons
And cobwebs
And broken pieces
They put aside long ago

I'm one of those cheap plastic rakes
The kind you buy at the Dollar General
The "one-time-use"
That may have nothing but bits and pieces left
When the yard is free of debris
But the wind still blows
And leaves still fall,
But this rake is useless now

So they throw it in the shed
Of skeletons and cobwebs and broken pieces
And it sits in the darkest corner
Never to be heard of again.