I played the "What Are You" game on Facebook....but they could find nothing for me
I didn't "sext" or "text" or dance madly to a Taylor Swift melody
And when they asked of my favorite color, there was no choice for "rainbows"
So I abandoned the silly game, and the window I did close
So, after giving it lots of thought, who do I think I am?"
Well, most times these days I feel like an old tin can
Where once I was prime value...and really quite "top shelf"
Now I've been discarded on the side of the road, valued only by myself
I'm a bit rusty and old these days, but should anyone pick me up
A quick rinse and I can hold a cool sip of water to sup
For hobos and those whom life has passed them by
I can serve as campfire coffee cup if they'd only let me try
Oh yes, you have to hold me carefully by my jaggedly severed lid
I hurt a few who handled me wrong....often sorry that I did
But old tin cups can still be warmed by loving fingers laced
About my form as I have hungered for one more sweet embrace
To most these days I'm simply "refuse" to be casually tossed aside
Just a rusty old tin cup no more worthy of the ride
So I lie here beside the road, wind blown and rusting in the rain
And few will ever know of my loneliness and pain
Just once I pray that someone will come along and pick me up
Before the trash man comes and throws me in the truck
I can offer you a cool sip of water, give you respite from a summer sun
If only you would pick me up and allow me to come along