Personify: Whistle

 The ball hit against my blue insides
and it made an awful sound.
The bones, of me, vibrated
whenever it was moving around.

I feel myself and I'm ageing
no longer being spittle-soused,
crushed at the bottom of a box
about to be thrown from the house.

I had this dream I'd be stainless steel -
on a pitch or on a hunt or on a train,
being treasured by a single fellow
who would keep me on a simple, silver chain.

However I, in fact, was a plastic child's toy
and started life in a coin drop arcade
where the same song played one thousand times
and each penny was like a grenade.

Well, I can't say I am grateful for being chipped
or squashed in the bottom of a plastic container
but it seems at least a worthy end
for a whistling entertainer.