COGS AND GEARS

Sometimes, I feel like a machine,
My nuts-and-bolts body,
Moving together as one,
Creating mechanical movements.

A smile slowly spreads across lips,
Gears can’t move fast enough
For it to appear natural.
I have an artificial smile.

I begin to rust,
The process is slow and painful,
I feel my insides struggle to work
To keep up with my brain.

My mind, however, does not rust,
It remains intact as I deteriorate,
Until I can move no more,
Locked in place.

I was living once
But that was long ago
Now I stand on display,
Nothing more than cogs and gears.

© 2016 Audrey Talbot

The Big Windows Review 7 (Spring 2016)