In Control of a Broken Machine

Wallowing in the decay,

Alone, with nothing to say,

Rusting in the rainy day,

With all mentality peeled,

And with nothing left to feel,

I cannot begin to heel.

With all wires becoming tangled,

And the plates of steel start to peel,

The mind becomes twisted and mangled,

The pain becomes so very real,

Though no one has ever seen,

Is the mind but a machine?

Have I been broken in trust?

Maybe I have too much lust,

It's now rusting through the crust,

Is the dismay just a trick?

Through the metal it will pick,

Without oil I'm getting sick!

The engine is starting to stall,

The screws are beginning to burn,

How will I manage to turn,

Before crashing to the wall?

More and more it starts to seem,

To me my mind is a machine,

The faulty wire starts a fire,

The fire swiftly starts burning,

As the tire cannot start turning,

The cogs have now turned to dust,

And destroyed by all the rust,

Then blown away by the lust,

It's over now it will seem,

Ever rusted is the machine,

Without any chance to redeem,

Broken down is the machine,

Forever caught in the dream,

Controlling a broken machine!