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Scrap Metal

I drove past the junk yard the other day.
Saw the vehicles in various states of disrepair.
Components in various disarray.
How life had seemingly disappeared.
I couldn’t see the value in the aggregate,
Scraps and shrapnel laying about.
How each piece was once…
Was once a pivotal part of something else..
And since its primary task was no longer possible,
Its duties were no longer needed,
On the bench its now permanently seated,
Seeded with all of the other lost dreams under the dirt.
Pieces of junk.
People side step, so I side step.
My mom, my dad, my teachers said side step.
So I side step.
Mr Rogers, Barney, Sesame St said we can be anything.
So we put ourselves in line.
In time we’d see.
In line we side stepped the loose shards of once functionality,
Everyday our concerted punctuality side stepped the abstract,
The off track.
“It is not a sheep. It is not a sheep. It is a person”
“Its a sheep”
“It is not a sheep. It is not a sheep. It is a person”
“Sir, its a sheep”

Told one thing yet shown another.
Told that its blue yet hold another color,
I am not a sheep huh?
Then why are you attempting to wrap me in wool,
Instructing me to push,
Yet forcing me to pull.
Ahhh yes.

But as I pass the scrap yard,
My companion says,
My friend these bits of metal are gold,
Configure them not by how they were sold,
But how your mind chooses to mold,
Cognitive freedom,
Genius lies waiting in the folds of your brain,
For your brain is the very field of metal.
Here’s the crux of your young adult life.
Forced to put together that which you had no clue carried value,
The value, however, of the oddities strewn about,
Price higher than the voices of institutional tyranny could shout,
Yet most succumb to the fear mongering and discipline,
Others take up some supplementary distraction….

Take up the pieces. There are genius in the pieces.



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