PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Morality is lost.

the machine does not care.

Cold hard steel,

cold world,

Bullets fly left and right.

and blood is shed all over the place

Innocent blood spilled like wine,

satisfies the minds of the string pullers

The pistons of the machine go up and down,

the gun is continually fed with ammunition 

War is all they think about,

blood is all they desire.

The machine has no soul,

it sheds crocodile tears

and mimics emotions

It runs

and does not tire

Not quite alive,

not quite dead

The skin like rubber,

the eyes like glass

Simulating the real,

rigging the game

Every logical scenario 

calculated

As it maintains the illusion