It is the way each gear ran perfectly,
The way the ticks lined up.
It was how the metal clashed with me,
It couldn’t get enough.
I AM WARNING YOU THIS WILL NOT WORK.
Humans are like machines,
Nothing more, nothing less,
With imperfections no one sees,
And tasks empty into nothingness.
But maybe if we broke free,
If we danced and if we sung,
The metal would be a part of me,
A cyborg I would become.
Both machines and I and we have faults,
A rusty screw, the armor’s chink,
And our imperfections are assaults,
And they do make are feelings sink.
But maybe we surpass with our dance, our song,
Maybe it is our rhythm that gets us along.
Because when the machine breaks it does not have
A beating heart to give it a laugh.