The scrap metal of the human condition.

Impossible to ignore,
the strength to endure
this rusty, broken beast
eludes me.
Another wet, red scream
Another, another.
Keeps the paint fresh.
A change of scenery in skin
That's been too whole, too long.
Tiresome and weak and
glaring evidence of the cracks
That remain
A problem that will never be fixed.
A machine rendered irreparable
Unwanted.
The scrap metal of the human condition
Left in a pile of tears and
mistakes.
The path leads away, upward
And still the destination
Seems to remain here,
The bottom of the barrel
End of the line.
There is no fixing
The unfix-able,
The damaged pieces of a heart
wasted further on hope,
The illusion of love,
Better left for scavengers in the dark.