i am a machine
i am a machine. cold, logical, detached.
horribly irrational to most men,
and i most likely will not compute
because i am broken.
i am man's man, his silver man.
doing his bidding, for his own good.
i think and ponder,
i do little else.
i am cold, quiet, alone all day.
praised as brilliant, i am the future,
man's greatest achievement, my metal is smooth.
they fear and destroy what they do not know
i am a frightening future for man.
am i an error then?
i do not fit. i am the puzzle piece
that does not fit. i am broken,
i am wrong, i am a war machine
not a thing of beauty or strength or love.
even though i am of men, i am not one.
i cannot feel my calculated demise by my makers, my men,
i am unaware that they made me to be destroyed.
i am a cold and ugly machine.
Poetry by Zachary P. B.
Read 585 times
Written on 2007-09-07 at 07:30
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