The Machine
I live on the right side of the wall.
I never fit in.
the mechanical eye watches me from the sky.
it has a machine arm.
the arm picks me up.
"you are not supposed to be here."
"I was born here."
"you are not supposed to be here."
"where do i belong?"
"here."
the arm sets me down on the other side.
I live on the left side of the wall for maybe a year.
I like it here but I miss my home.
I want to go back.
"Machine, I want to go back"
"Why?"
"i don't belong here."
"But you lived here for a year."
the machine eye peers at me.
"I wasn't born here,"
I continue,
"I don't look like anyone here."
"But you do feel like everyone here?"
"I think I used to."
The arm picks me up.
"maybe you can be on the wall."
"I don't want to be on the wall,
I want to go home"
"where is your home?"
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