I like to think that I am a tin can, named Tim Can.
I have loose pants and my boxers showing.
Little Tim goes square walking cause he has a lot of stuff in his pants.
He has fruits, rotten or ripe, a crow bar that bends with a little might,
And some other stuff with value or not to others.
Little Tim is only a can.
He doesn’t talk and he doesn’t plan.
He doesn’t hesitate as he walks into a pole or hole.
Making people say “Aw!” As they help him, keep whole.
I am a tin can, named am Tim Can.
Hello, this is a new story. All in all this story is not much, but I will post short stories about this character. This shall be an anthology of stories around what happens as a creature with no recognition whether he has a mind or not interacts to people, and how a creature with an unknown desire and low value might change those around him.