This is where we made our tools

This is the bench I sat at
And mended years together

This is the wire I ran
Through the mesh

This is the man I made
In the flesh

Sitting at his desk
Expert at playing piano’s
Deep, heavy keys
In solemn notes

Android of whale oil

Sitting in the dark
With his eerie eyes
Glowing transfixed,
Bare beneath the mask

I made

To cover his wounds
And hide his shame

Published by Jake Thomas Shaw

Concerned with memory, currency, and destiny, I strive to capture each one as they happen. Join me and consume reality! Radio Reality. City!

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