There once was a poppet
Who lived in my pocket
While peers went to frolic
He stayed in my pocket
Working with rarely a peep
Only mumbling a sonnet
As if building a rocket
He labored two weeks straight
Assembling a motley invention
I could not contemplate
Until one day silence, no commotion
And then came a whisper
Beckoning me nearer
He leapt to my ear
And began to drill
While I was frozen in fear
Amidst grinding and cracking
He cackled with horrible glee
Until finally inside
Where he now presides
Over my body and mind
While I sit idly by
The Station