My clockwork metal gears,
Swivel and spin swarming together a chorus line,
Blundering beneath man-made copper skin.
My conscious perception,
In my flawlessly gilded head,
Like widespread nuclear warheads,
Bound together by silver threads.
My bearings cease mid-rotation,
In my robust bulletproof body,
Standing among innumerable automated peers,
pondering that maybe one mellow day I will embody,
What it feels like to be human,
to be once again known as the infamous Frankenstein.
My Steampunk days have finally ruptured,
In explosions of molten golden cogs,
But I am left to stand,
Amidst the air of copper brass,
All alone, just as planned,
To vanquish the rest of my inept clockwork creations.
Cedar Ridge High School
10