The Machine, not a man

He invented the machine,

A machine with knobs and made of steel

With it, he would let in the fiends

The world would never know it was real

So he told them all they could see

Until the first of them could feel

No one came to his show, but he did not flee

Instead he gave them all a deal

He let them have it

Gave it to them free

The crowd cried and he was a hit

But he ran out of money, and slept below a tree

The man came to his feet and he cried

The tree looked upon the man and let him go

The man soon became sick and he died

And the tree told the man, what he could never ever know

Reviews

[Prodigo]

lol, this is terrible. I should have never published this

[Closedown]

Very interesting. Has a sort of fairytale charm about it somehow.

intriguing...
I'll have to come back to this.