Jan. 27th, 2015

peteyfrogboy: (rook)
I make three welds:
One.
Two.
Three.
I have no heart that beats
But that's my pulse:
One.
Two.
Three.
The center of my being,
The reason I exist,
And yet
It is not really what I am.

One hour each night
They stop my beating heart
To oil the gears,
To tighten all the screws.
I treasure
Every second
And I dream
Of leaving here
To see the world,
To see at all.

The people here
Complain sometimes
That work
Is not their life,
And wish they could
Go back to school
Or go to Spain
Or kiss that girl
They saw once
On the bus.
I want to tell them,
"Do those things!"
To make the choice,
To risk,
To leap,
To fly.
To have such dreams
And let them go
Would make me weep
If only
I had eyes,
For I would be content
To get to
Four.

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