Machines

Some say that we’re clay�"molded into shape

Some say that we’re wood�"to sway with the wind

To bend and not break�"just like willow trees

 

Some say that we’re dolls, toys, dress up play things

Model soldiers for some deity’s enjoyment

Like the toys of a child to play with at will

 

I look at us and say: none is quite right

What we are is different from any,

We are all the same, together, one

 

We are built, mass produced, mass programmed

By the previous generation, our parents,

Programming us for what they see as right

 

We go through our day, go through our lives

Marching, each with our single function

Each is one piece in that chain of society

 

That we perform for society,

Each is a single cog, a single gear

Author's Note

Any thoughts, suggestions, Questions are welcome, love it or hate it