Wind-Up

I wrote this piece questioning if someone values me for my function instead of my person. Wind-Up explores the fear of one's usefulness being more valuable than one's time.

Can I only sing my song
when you deign to listen?
Do you think it would be so wrong
if I stayed, so you could listen?

Like a monkey with cymbals,
I feel at your beck and call
I want to be there for you,
but don't expect the same at all

The key I must've given you
isn't for jamming in my back
It's for access to the front,
where red wires sit in stacks

These gears will just stop
if they don't get oiled
Will that make you drop me
in the garbage or in the soil?

Do I belong in the shed
with all the other tools?
Is nothing about me diff'rent
from all the other fools?

I'm not sure why I bother
or why I hope for more
Will you put me back in the box
and return me to the store?

Since you have my key,
will I ever get yours?
Will you ever let me
fly with you and help with chores?