I ride on road
with proud chin
and haughty endeavor
I glide past you
with stories forlorn
and voice cherry
which one of me
did you meet?
with a bun, break or bread?
sometimes, you must never meet me
and let me pass
without a chance
to nod and smile
I prayed for heart
the other day
being a tin machine
and now, it keeps breaking
all the time
it is hard to be human
and harder to keep a heart
so,
I go among woods
walk on uneven ground
with crawling ants
and creecking crickets
to mend it
air, and fire heals
it, not you,
not water
