Saturday, November 6, 2010

The Clockwork Girl

I can hear your tinny gears turning

you on; lifting your head

so you can flip your curls and dance.

Don't remain oblivious, time is always

running out. Yes, all your plans are

pre-programmed, but why not

stretch your hinges toward singularity?

Amuse with your attempts at autonomy.

At least struggling keeps you moving, to

give those poor springs some use.

Why not shake until you break, preferring

self-destruction to neglect. Instrumental at

last, even if only in your own demise. A much

greater fate than languishing

in the chest of the lost and forgotten.

Trapped with those who failed to entertain,

or held on until they were easy to replace.

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