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Literature Text
Human Clockwork
She walks, she stumbles, she falls.
She can’t get up.
She can’t stay down.
It’s the ugly place in between.
Cascading sorrow, empty hope.
It’s a dysfunctional heart.
She was a machine.
She followed a routine.
A gear breaks apart and flies.
The battery fizzles and dies.
Oh, it had a wretched distraction.
Oh, it should have stopped the interaction.
This machine has been destroyed.
All that’s left is a void.
It’s quite hollow and vacant.
Though the parts still move.
A vase is shattered.
The contents don’t leak out.
It just stays there, suspended;
Forever, in dismal anticipation.
She walks, she stumbles, she falls.
She can’t get up.
She can’t stay down.
It’s the ugly place in between.
Cascading sorrow, empty hope.
It’s a dysfunctional heart.
She was a machine.
She followed a routine.
A gear breaks apart and flies.
The battery fizzles and dies.
Oh, it had a wretched distraction.
Oh, it should have stopped the interaction.
This machine has been destroyed.
All that’s left is a void.
It’s quite hollow and vacant.
Though the parts still move.
A vase is shattered.
The contents don’t leak out.
It just stays there, suspended;
Forever, in dismal anticipation.
..., just read it.
© 2006 - 2024 angstypoet
Comments7
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Holy Crap, you're a good poet. No wonder your name includes the word 'poet' in it. Geez! I was really impressed by this piece (and still am)!