Things that I hold dear,
begin; a sad unravel,
emphasising clumsiness
of what I deem to travel;
no perfect choice exists,
thus, pain does make a home,
both upon the sticky stage
and in my safety zone,
vice; control; does out me,
as fleshling robot thrives,
protocols; repeating
means; all that human; dies,
I try my best to keep,
all what makes me feel,
even if past poison;
stays, to make me ill,
looking on the floor,
elastic bands provide,
symbol lightbulb moments;
that I can use to tie;
to bundle stuff together,
some joy; that does remain,
which paints my welcome smile,
in their pouring rain!