Wordplay, with life

He’s bought a rocket cheap, metal and polished red.

Second hand without wings, rubbed the rust off with a tiny handkerchief.

He fancies setting out on it and cover a small distance,

The fuel prices have gone up.

Newer budgets are known to fuel anger.

Just take a round around humanity,

And set it back down near the post office, if it flies dangerously low.

He promised to not read the letters in it,

But dig a few and place them on his typewriter- its keys were broken.

A lock at the door was useless now,

Just as useless as his red rocket, and rising fuel prices.

Fuel has hardly been a reason for war.

Word prompt by Daily Post: Broken