Makers Of The Machine

Makers Of The Machine

I thought I became a machine… Until I cried myself to sleep

I realized machines don’t cry… I know robots don’t ask why

So I look at my eyes… As I cry and apologize

For refusing to love me… For not being the real me

For doing their dirty job… For not yelling stop

For living in pretend… For being just like them

For living their crime… For not using my design

For doing it their way… For not saying my say

For refusing to bring change… For playing their ugly game

For wasting God-given time… For denying my creative mind

For digging my own grave… For being my own slave

For refusing to get off… For being their robot

For refusing to leave… The makers of the machine

Why do I refuse… To see the clues

Why do I deny… Machine suicide

Why

Impersonating An Angel
Poetry Without Rules
© Paul H. Keeler… A Cosmic Cowboy