Poetry by Taylor

I can feel the difference in my knuckles
How they clench around my palm
The knock is harsher
And new again 
I’m sure I’ve got the right place
Just come a bit too late
They’ve changed the lock on the door
But not the gate
I can get into the garden
I can lie beneath the leaves
I can look up to my old window
Younger and free
Locked inside there is me

I lost and found parts along the way
Like a collage of machinery
The seatbelt alarms were always a bad idea
Another thing to annoy me
The electric winches were good to hide behind
Although one of them is broken
And everyone can look through all the time
Never got new wheels to get around quicker
Or something less practical than the body its already got
But I can move
Or I cant
Depends on the day 
and the fuel and the stay

I lose value in myself
Every mile that I travel
But I find more everyday
Every little moment along the way