You are a bicycle,
your rims are rusted;
Rusted to the overblown rubber tire.

Your chain is broken.
We've tried to splice it so many times,
but I'm running out of links and I'm broke.

You broke me, you ran over my foot.
No apologies. Only the reminders you leave like leaches.
"Well, I told you. I'm a bike."

Well, I told you not to hurt me.
Then you deliberately sought out to run over my foot.
Then ask me "Will you pump my tires, will you oil my chain."

I do these things for you, without being asked or appreciated.
Do them because you're my bicycle, and I appreciate you.

For getting me places, and knocking me down
to give me bruises, bumps, and scars
Scars that remind me, I am not a bicycle.

I am the flesh and blood of the world.
I am not a hollow iron cast;
My innards are in motion with my mind and heart.

I gotta stop pumping the tires on this bike, and toss it.
This bicycle gave me tetanus from it's peddles trying to run away.

Stop cutting up my ******* feet, bike.