Mechanical Child

Iam a mechanical child.

 My gears are broken and rusted from lack of care.

 Screws pop, eyes dialate, and the clock is ticking back and forth.

I've been in love with the wrong world that runs on vanity and constant insanity.

 The people looked so inviting and when we met they seemed so exciting.

 But like every story, there was a dramatic twist that shook me in my sleep from the earthquake of everyone else's problems.

 I couldn't move because the hooks in my skin kept me anchored down with other mechanical children who scream and yell for help.

But others choose to ignore the sounds coming from our mouths.
 
We've gone from self pity to actual need of help that no red cross can provide or a first aid kit that covered other poeples lies.