Machines

Something is stirring

Mind and body awake

To survey the wreckage

Of what’s to be done

 

Machines are alive

All maintained and gleaming

Whilst others lie in rust

Or smoking ruin

 

Machines that are still

We must handle with care

For they could explode

At the slightest touch

 

Destroy all around

The rust and the shining

And the smoke-blasted dead

No more to be done 

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