Inside the Mind of the Stressed Out Trolley

Wanting to be at the back of the line,
Isn't something normal for most it would seem,
Yet for me I hope for it all the time,
If I was at the front I'd be constantly taken.

Yes this sounds odd of that I am aware,
But I'm not your average talking object as you'll see,
If you could see me as me,
You'd realize I am your typical shopping trolley.

Here goes a tale about a day in my life,
It won't make you cry, but maybe you'll sigh,
The tale I will spin won't be happy,
For it starts in a store that never closes.

If I get picked then here is how it will go,
They'll put their hands on the cold metal of my head,
And they'll push me and wake me from my sleep,
Around and around the store I will go.

Sometimes the ride is short and sometimes long,
If it's to the grocery side I go,
I will scream internally,
It is such a pain for me to have my insides filled.

You would think it wouldn't be so bothersome,
After all I was made to serve the average jo,
Yet what if I grew legs and pushed you around,
Would it be fun for you then I wonder.

Children pushing against my frame,
And the scream which kills my poor mind,
There are days I wish that I wasn't me,
But it doesn't matter because no one knows.