Under the Hood

By Bowie Creason
 I peer down on the chrome lid,
A shiver I do feel,
This can't be happening, I forbid,
I do not know what lies beneath,
Will it be joy or sorrow I bequeath.
Is this my motor´s last day? 
For when I turned the crank,
No rumble did I hear,
Should I throw up the hood,
To see what lies beneath?
Or feeling well,
Forget the tragedy I am in,
To think of better things,
Or if my hesitance is the final straw,
If I do not act, all things will not be well.
Is it a simple problem,
A small gear, a tiny spell,
Or will it never rumble again?
This would be the end of me,
For my pockets are all empty.
A fly is all you will see being kept by me,
The car is a silent husk of what it used to be.
Is this all misunderstood,
Should I open the hood?