Not the Machine(pain)

Release of souls from the body,
 love of people tied in the way.
Find out the missing links
                  of love with the life.
Some are expatriates
     and
          some residents,
A little gently smoother air,
             Walking the way home.
Shiny wood split sunshine,
                     Faded to despair.
The Express came down from the bus,
Express!
 Bad to the carriage.
The clutches,
        the broken pitch road was gone.
Stir in the pulse,
   The body is burnt,
The hands and feet become crippled.
It's going to be a lot more far away.
I'm not looking for a storm of life.
Wet eyes,
feeling harsh in dream,
     Stand alone storm,
                  Unevenly unseen.