Automatic Poem by John Michael Cruise

Engine stops running
In the midst of a new beginning.
Like my love that's automatic,
Purely dynamic and super static.

Unable to repair the damage machine
That was hit by the trucks of keen.
The oil is flowing in the sophisticated land
Is it like a heart that is fond?

If a machine is automatic,
Why my love is full of tragic?
Did I ever love someone,
With no tears and fears?
Or maybe its just me that is stupid and queer.