The Silent Wheel

I am the wheel
That does not squeak
Dented and broken
Though I may be
I sit silently
As the world spins by

My sister screams
She squeals
She squeaks up a storm
My sister, the squeaky wheel
And trivial as
Her wounds may be
She still squeaks up
More attention then me

Still I sit quiet
I shed naught a tear
Unless I am hidden
And cannot be seen
Such is the life
Of a silent wheel
I quietly spin
I dare not protest
I continue to work
As though at my best

And my sister,
She screams
She cries and she whines
She she gets the care
That should be mine
For no one looks
At the silent wheel

Such is the fate
That I foolishly chose
Whe I took the place
Of the silent wheel
And left to my sister
The role of complainer