The Woes of Clock-Work Boys

 

The Woes of Clockwork Boys

 

His joint cogs squeal,

For the first time in weeks

Protesting, but starting to turn

And the coal in his chest

Fans into a burn

 

No, there’s no American dream

For boys powered with steam

 

He sighs, but he’ll bear it through

With nothing to compare it to

How could he even begin

To guess the terrible truth?

 

Where his heart should have been

He’s just scrap iron and tin

From foot plate to ivory grin

You’d be hard-pressed to find skin

 

No, there’s no American dream

For boys powered with steam

 

He’s made to agree and disarm

Helpless to resist and

Programmed to charm

To be a trinket on the arm

Of one girl or another

 

They all stop and stare

And forget they were ever

Even going anywhere

He turns to them, smiling

Though its unwillingly in place

He can’t even protest

He’s not programmed to care

 

 

 

He’s just a pawn in the ploy

To meet all his terms

And forced to enjoy

So he lives out his life

Little more than a toy

But such are the woes

Of clockwork boys

Reviews

[Rachel Eisenberg]

Mannequin girls, clockwork boys. Sad, sad. This reminds me of "Coin-Operated Boy." It flows/rhymes like it should be a song, too...
Looking at your other work, you write in a lot of rhymes. I'd like to see you try something with either much more form to it, or completely formless. I'm curious to see what you could do...