Damaged Goods.

It's always good to let the video run, and reread the post over and over until you get all of it, at least the poem, in this case.

Damaged Goods.

My heart starts to mechanically, break down.

I tinker, with interest...

Each significant piece.

So secure in its place.

I grind my emotion,

Through thought.

I oil, my pain.

And sear, its parts.

I drill my chips,

Of broken heart, away.

For a newly chiseled heart,

Is on its way.

Sweep the broken pieces,

Under the sway.

Toss the founders, away.

Sweep, child, sweep.

My feet, get cold.

And my hands, sway,

I hit a gasket.

Too much shifting-weight.

On top of my heart's, third wall.

Assembling, its black grease...

A leak,

A drop of glue,

On my cheek.

I howl in pain,

As a gear gets caught,

Out of its terrain.

Blood-blisters,

Repair, on my fingers,

While the sound of my engine's creak, lingers.

I grow wary.

I tonk and I tang...

But it will never,

Be the same.

And I cannot accept, this...

I must fix, my damaged goods,

Its kettling, mechanical, hiss.

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I could possibly extend it if you guys liked it. I just wanted it to be a little shorter than my latest, as some longer poems, can get dull. So I apologize for that...as well as, the whole..."dark/moodiness/depressed/pathetic" theme, that has plagued my thoughts and latest post. I'm sorry. Just an involved mood for me lately. Hopefully...I can spice things up, with happiness soon. We shall see, just depends on how it goes. (Insert, Andrew's impression of Trey..."That was so vague, it is true within everything you could say." I Lawl'd, very much @ that, just by the way. It is so true. :P

Please leave comments, of any type...are welcome. This is surely as, clear as cut, as gold is gay. It's very sure. So leave them...fireal(a).