Tristan Robert Lange

The Machine

No forgiveness for the weary,
And no mercy for the weak,
This world is cold and cruel
As it devours its children.

Helpless are the young ones
Who strive hard to succeed,
For they are now abandoned
And left desolate in despair.

There is no room for success
For all are on the path to fail.
Set up by a beastly machine,
They become enumeration.

The numbers keep on working,
As cogs in the motor's wheel,
Producing fruit for the beast.
There's no hope for liberation.

Comments3

  • Antoinette

    I really enjoyed this It's actually amazing and so (unfortunately) relateable .
    xx

    • Tristan Robert Lange

      Yes, it is unfortunate. Thank you for reading, relating and commenting!

      • Antoinette

        you're welcome
        xx

      • 1 more comment

      • Maichael

        Relatable and well put together

      • Tony36

        Well written and expressed. I wrote a poem called "The Machine" you should look it up sometime.



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