The world erupts, a cacophony of creaks,
door hinges argue with the stubborn past,
chairs moan like aching old men, tired.
The symphony of stuck is relentless, loud.
But then, a silver can hums softly,
its whisper drowns out the chaos.
WD-40 isn’t a miracle, exactly
more like a lullaby holding things together.
It coaxes the unyielding into surrender,
turns grinding into a smooth pirouette.
Bolts loosen, air swells with relief,
and suddenly silence is a revelation.
Imagine no peace for rusted guts,
a sticky hinge never finding grace,
the rattle stealing sleep from the walls—
what a noisy life to endure, unkind.
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: December 18th, 2025 04:33
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
Offline)
Comments3
Well Gray I have to say I have used it before many times. I wish that they sold a formula for people that are rusted in their ways. Nicely written
People who are rusted in their ways. Like it. Thanks Soren
Most welcome Gray
Clever write. Enjoyable read!!
Thanks Katie I appreciate your feedback
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