I Don't Get Around Much

It's easy to rhyme
Sad and bad
And try and fly
And one syllable words
Like that

But it's harder to find
Something to fit
In a lock
When it just
Isn't meant to
Fit in that lock

You can bash it
Against rocks
Or bend it
With coals so hot
They burn red and white and glow

You can try to twist it
So that the sentence strings together
All nicely
Fits in a box
Like a jigsaw

But the truth is,
That in the end
The key wasn't really made
To fit in that lock
To open that door
To reveal the contents
(Or lack thereof)
Of a room
In a house
Or a building
In a city
In a country
Where there is only
One key
For one lock
To one world
Where there could be
A million keys
For a million locks
Or just one
Or just...
One.