Like a machine!

A poem about me wondering if they way I handle myself, makes me a machines.

All day, all night
running steady, without any rest
15 hours a day without breaking a sweat
Emotionless, nerves of steel, never backing down
Blessing or a curse I may never know
Yet treated less when emotion is shown?
While keeping a straight face
When I am hurt, or deeply wound
Reading me with
"Man of Courage" or "Man of Strenght"
Is this right? Is this Wrong?
I fear I may never know
Turning emotion into drive
A drive unlike any other
A drive that will never end
Until perfection is met in every end
This drive carries me on
Maybe I am just like a Machine.

Author's Note

Thoughts on how I could make this and my next works better