oh, watch the iron beast take to the sky, 70 tons
at least
it is a longing for refuge
a need to take flight and rise
but never is a promise
and never will that creature survive the climb
it is the kind of thoughts that made it hemorrhage originally
each rivet hiss, sizzle, pop underneath curling fists
if i could paint that picture, it would be the muscles of a jawbone flexed
strained, then snap, and limply hang
maybe i'd color it red
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