Metal Man


I am not a metal man

I am no metal machine

which you can turn off and on, 

use for your own devices.

I am real.

I am blood and flesh and love and sadness

I am arteries and muscle,

thought and sound.

I am salty tears and wounds,

cut newly each day.

I am bone and brow,

sweat and smell.

I have no cold metallic heart,

that cannot feel the love of another.

I have pain and happiness in my chest.

I have the motion of everything around me,

the wind against my face,

sand in between my toes.

I do not compute, or follow a set of codes,

that limit my existence and subject my being.

I am fear and sin, that may live as I please.

I will not be molded and bent with the push of a button,

or the pull of a lever by the man above me.

I am whole and being, breath fills my lungs.

Food fills my stomach,

thoughts and memories fill my head.

Lust fills my lips and loins,

sorrowful aching fills my heart.

Blood fills my veins,

marrow fills my bones.

I am no metal man.

I feel the pain of every single being around me.

I am the pain, I cause it.

I weep and howl because of it.

The shells hit the floor as quickly as the droplets of blood.

As quickly as the mother falls to her knees,

before the sight of her dead son.

I am the trigger finger, that contains madness and fear.

I am the lost soul that wanders the world.

I am contradiction; life and death.

Everything that fills the emptiness

the void that dwells in the chest of every human.

I am no metal man.

I am you.


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