When they look inside of me,
What is it they will find?
Blood and guts and viscera,
Or have they something else in mind?
Stardust, sawdust, ticking clocks,
Sinew, tendon, muscle, bone,
A tiny little painted sign
Reading, “Please leave me alone?”
Perhaps they’ll find nothing at all –
Empty, hollow, only air,
Or maybe they’ll find something worse –
The thought’s too much to bear.
I hope that what they really find,
Down deep inside of me,
Are all my pieces working right,
The way they’re meant to be.