staring at a crowd- a clique of friends
but, alas, I am not one of them
walking on the outskirts, outsider looking in
sitting in the back, needing some oil for my tin
congratulations I'm the first one
my voice creeks, my voice is quite
a neighbor asks me a question
what was that?
Oh, oh, yes. MacBeth's achilles tendon?
I ask me, my, oh Ms.Tin...
If only I had a heart, I could share with them
that is my fatal flaw
no star-crossed love, ambition, or misinformation
just that lack of a ticker
Oh, great wizard within...
could I please be gifted one?
What is this?
This melodious beat, deep inside?
Its been there, just under surface
I'm pulling the curtain aside
What is this, I find
But Ms. Tin holding a vibrant, beating drum
As she plays out this wondrous beat
Realization hits me like a fleet
The ticker was there, just so
this whole time, beating slow
gaining rhythm with morale
with Ms. Tin, me, my, myself- holding the drumsticks.