sometimes

i feel as if

i am…

a machine.

when people

assume

i am heartless-

“i don’t think you’re

really sorry”

they think

i am not

human-

“she’s soulless”

because i

cry oil

instead of tears,

because i am

cold,

i run on

gasoline.

i am just

a part to them,

a scrap of junk,

without feelings

they say

i don’t feel

anything.

so now i am

a machine:

efficiency

and brutality

instead of

flesh and

bone