Best Poems Written by Bryon Shuford

Machine

The minds of these beings seem to simply be
arid lands with no room for imagination.
No room for charity or expansion of the mind.
No room for anything other than their monotony affairs.
Eat, sleep, and conform is all they seem to know.

I have told myself that the day I dare think to do
the dance of the machine is the day I instead
dance with the Reaper, laughing softly as the crows feast upon my identity.

Copyright © Bryon Shuford | Year Posted 2016