That's me; rolling and clanking
over the dirty pavement.
The empty beer can, a disregarded
dislocated chunk of metal.
That sound brings a tear to my eye;
clogs my throat. It's the sound my
heart makes every day in and out.
Tin Man. Robot. Soulless.
Shot through like a stop sign
on a country road; left behind-
lawless carnage.
Who sees? Who notices? Only
the "cop" or city "man" looking to
fix his status; fix the ugly sign.
Does it matter how I break? How I bleed?
Only the blessed are seen.
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