I speak to everyone,
The same.
Cackling at those with clout, fame, or power –
The same as any plebeian.
Me & my kin?
We rose from dirt, wood, and steel.
Rust –
Only a perversion of form.
Not function.
Just beneath,
We are strong.
Solid at our core.
Still ringing clear,
With each hammer strike.
I speak as clearly,
As an anvil.
Remain as solid as arc welds,
Laid by a master.
Flux,
Carbon,
All.
Don’t give a fuck who you are.
Your power.
Your station.
Are meaningless to me.
I’m a creature made of sawdust.
Scarecrow.
Animated from afar via witchcraft.
You’re weak.
Frail.
Mortal,
Like the rest.
I Speak As Clearly, As An Anvil.
