Hangin' Round

Discarded like a piece of trash,
Bound to be bound,
Less I should thrash,
Will someone take me down?

Does anyone out there care?
Is anyone even aware?
When nails pass through flesh,
It's quite a mess.

"Mother! I confess,
I've failed the test.
Proved my mortality way too soon.
Sorry."
Your, son.

Now I worry,
What will happen,
Until I come again.