Iron Will By Charlotte Coldwell

My skeleton; My structure,

My body built, from platinum and bone.

An automaton formed to protect,

My own lungs, turned into an engine,

Moving the vapors I turn to life,

The gentle oxygen, taken for granted.

My skeleton; My framework,

My body built, from copper and bone.

An automaton I betrayed, tarnished.

My own skin, turned into artwork,

Painted with apocalypse and scars,

The internal chaos made a showpiece.

My skeleton; My foundation,

My body built, from tungsten and bone.

An automaton I've stripped to scrap.

My own chest, turned into a cage,

A prison for holding silence and memories,

The beautiful violence locked inside.

My skeleton; My everything,

My body built, from will and bone,

And, an automaton I've shattered in fear —

In fear, of everything I saw in the mirror.

But technology is human, determined and strong,

My automaton will repair, upgrade and heal,

And my artwork will become a masterpiece —

A masterpiece that screams,

I am,

Still here.