I am going to be a strict machine;
Amongst screws and bolts will be the blood of me.
With some twists and turns that carry through,
I will take control of all you knew.

For a head I will have a bowling ball,
A fixture so round, smooth, opaque, and small;
Holes to carry me, sleek surface to move,
A variable mass with headstrong dreams to prove.

My eyes will hold all to be seen around
That counts for more than even sky or ground,
Than sun or rain, than death or life:
Than pleasure and pain balanced with strife.

I'll elect to locate naught for an ear
To replace with silence the sounds of fear.
Instead I shall have a decorative lace
For all the good  it would do in its place.

Holding my innards will be a strong steel,
A robust cage built to withstand repeal.
It won't buckle nor bruise, fracture nor fall;
Its strength shall prove aspiration for all.

My foundation, the base on which I stand
Shall be something springy for when I land.
Smoothly mobile and long in stride,
They alone will be the source of my pride.

Discarded and buried, left to rot
Are all the scars and wounds you wrought.
Pieces spoiled,  marred beyond reason
I surrender to yield life in another season.