Some days I feel so small,

a tiny cog in a big wheel, 

ready to crush me under 

it’s uncaring weight.

Alone in a group,

Odd and out of place. 

Not quite in step

With the rest of the human race.

Then I remember what happens

With giant machines.

They may tremble

and shake the ground,

but a small striped cog

can be so mighty 

entire works will grind to a halt

without it