short-circuits

I am a lost soul

the broken circuit thought

Unable to connect or find a spark

to ask help of those manufactured

of my same steel and wired works.

I will instead cling to empty walls,

and whisper to them, although they

do not respond.

the walls

do not know what it is to be broken,

a circuit that is flickering dead within.

the walls have ears but have no tongue,

ensuring confidentiality of my chagrin.

even if there is no electricity left

i can reveal my short-circuits

fluid and deft;

it is the simpler route to cure all of my woes.

to find comfort and peace in the arms of a wall

to one who cannot understand and could not know

what rust has accumulated on my old battered soul.

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