The taste of Iron

So metal, and rust its face

this liquid flows through veins.

Rules my actions, and all my thoughts.

Can't live without it, it's all I got!

Towers and scrappers, very tall.

Made of them steal parts, they call iron.

The taste of iron is in my blood,

the sense of synthetic is my cause.

Holy God, what is real?

Am I man or am I steel?