Robots

Robots

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

Prerna Gupta

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