Life is a boiling pot full of clay
It’s a runny mess
A robot swirls its finger in the mix
Creating offspring

The clay begins to harden
The robot tips the pot on
Its
World

Gray blocks of clay land
On every single person
Except for one
This little boy was spared

Everyday he tosses the ball
To his little brother
But he never catches it anymore
He’s a fucking block of clay!

They won’t talk
Ever
Even if you start dancing for them
Everyday I dress them but still,
The blocks don’t speak

He couldn’t take it anymore
Sitting at the edge of darkness
He looks
Everything seems so beautiful

A block falls down next to the boy

Freedom in the form of clay