I've got a bad habit
of tripping over my own clunky feet
I'm not used to it
I used to be so precise
so mechanical and
under control

But the wires
have all been severed
and the servos can't
read
the feed
back
and while I can feel my
windows are cracked
I can't feel the rain
in my heart
even though
I know
that it's now beating again

The rain...wet on my face
as it follows the furrows
and frown lines
feels so good on new skin

Looking over the wreckage
at my feet
feeling the lump in my throat...
There's a lump in my throat!
What a joyous feeling...to feel

Cans once riveted to
my hands now cleanish
And the work is piling up,
but I can manage
The lack of fire in my head
is a big advantage

The doors to inviting rooms
swing wide open
One day, my clunky feet will fall in step
and I'll win the prize of an honest
man's death
The metallic clank will disappear
from my stride
and I will become whole again;
well deserved of my Father's pride.
One day….