Tuesday, March 20, 2012
By Lemuel Crouse
It is broken and I cannot fix it
On my own and so I cry...and cry.
I have pulled back some layers,
Tried to see what lies beneath,
But it is beyond my understanding,
This machine that runs my world.
I clumsily prod with a spanner,
Nudging random bolts, hoping
To help more than hurt, wishing
I knew just what to do to set it
Again in motion, flying, whirring,
Happily dancing with love of life.
I am like a gearbox, broken by
A thrown cog, bollox, busted,
Locked up, going to rust fast.
I just want to pull the blanket
Over my head like lush sod,
Until the grinding scream stops.
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