Single Status Update
A poem by Bizbok
Still Got Heart
Mechanicalized, creeping eyes.
Stiff lips, faces thin and strict.
Marching, chastising patchwork men,
judging our dreadful, threaded souls.
You wander lost places, hidden alone.
In a changed world, you were ashamed to be born.
Equality here does not exist.
Your make and model number just don’t fit.
It’s a game of tag and this time you’re it.
Your skin is real compared to their razor claws.
Your bone and skin against their mechanic flaws.
They’re watching, waiting for that chance…
and when the music plays.
It’s your turn to dance.