A Broken Record

The broken record wheezed and sputtered,

It shook with the effort of speech,

It got stuck on certain letters like a meditating monk,

The breaks and repetitions in it voice

Made it inaudible.

They leaned in to hear what it had to say

Because they thought what it had to say was important.

They turned their heads so their ears were towards it,

Or so the record thought.

They might have felt sorry for the struggling, crippled record,

As so decided to look away,

But the record thought better of the people he was talking to,

For the record was me.