The Record Player

It repeated its self,
time and time again.
broken it seemed,
trying to help a friend.

it used to be the old favorite,
until somthing new came along.
they would listen for a while,
but soon got sick of the same old song.

there it would sit on the shelve,
for a month or two.
left untouched,
being left out was nothing new.

there would be nothing left for it after a while,
he would be put up on the shelve,
left there forever, no longer the style.

so whats left for the worn out thing?
is it now just a piece of trash?
even to a machine,
life can end with a sudden crash.

It repeated its self,
time and time again.
broken it seemed,
trying to help a friend...