I am not a metal man
I am no metal machine
which you can turn off and on,
use for your own devices.

I am real.
I am blood and flesh,
love and sadness.
I am arteries and muscle,
thought and sound.

I am salty tears and wounds,
cut newly each day.
I am bone and brow,
sweat and smell.

I have no cold metallic heart,
that cannot feel
the love of another.
I have pain and
happiness in my chest.

I have the motion of
everything around me,
the wind against my face,
sand in between my toes.

I do not compute,
or follow a set of codes,
that limit my existence and
subject my being.

I am fear and sin,
that may live as I please.
I will not be molded and
bent with the push of a button,
or the pull of a lever by
the man above me.

I am whole and being.
Breath fills my lungs.
Food fills my stomach,
thoughts and memories
fill my head.

Lust fills my lips and *****,
sorrowful aching fills my heart.
Blood fills my veins,
marrow fills my bones.

I am no metal man.
I feel the pain of
every single being around me.
I am the pain, I cause it.
I weep and howl because of it.

Shells hit the floor as quickly as
droplets of blood fall.
As quickly as a mother falls to her knees
before the sight of her dead son.

I am the trigger finger,
that contains madness and fear.
I am a lost soul that
wanders the world.

I am contradiction;
life and death.
Everything that is the emptiness
that dwells in the chest
of every human.
I am no metal man.
I am you.