The Machine

The machine keeps on churning,
Distilling the essence of what you have been.
It wreaks of death and destruction.
It offers painful obliteration with financial substance.

It gives but often takes more.
It feeds, leaving a horrific gore.
The machine keeps on turning,
Undeterred, malformed, an illiterate creature in human form.

The machine… it giveth, but it taketh,
It bathes in a cesspool of death,
It yearns for you like deadly crystal meth.

The sky is so blue, it contains only what is true.
And it is the only defiance,
The only purpose in self-reliance,
Against the machine that drips a poisonous dew.

It depends on you,
It caresses, dances to a beautiful tune.
Without preservation there cannot be salvation,
Against the machine that consumes you.


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