The cogs do not turn as they should...
They are slowed and erroneous as if covered in tar...
Constantly turning the same twisted pattern...
As if being controlled by an outside force that wills for it to repeat...
The same short, pointless turns that appear more like...
The last twitches of a dying bird...
Here lies the broken machine.
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4 comments:
this is awesome.
i love poems like
this. discription!
mmm, better than
a yummy popcile!!
(to me at least lol)
i once wrote a poem
about a manila folder.
i have had trouble
finding it though lol.
i will look for it.
really good, i can relate to this
your going to make big bucks for this company
i like this one, reminds me of a run down man. idk thats what i get in my head.
i could be wrong tho idk
:P
The last twitches of a dying bird.
powerful
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