PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

The Machine


We come from conveyor belt lives;

our feet never touch the ground.

It’s time to change production -

Who do you think we are?

This model’s fed up.

You think we’re numb?

 

I’ll break this mask,

I don’t need a script.

The stage is not a guillotine.

But who says we have to act?

Let’s make our own story;

One that can’t be rehearsed.

 

Let’s show them

under those stage lights

under that makeup

what the Life Play can really be.

©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

Scapecrow

I am seventeen years old. My favourite sport is hockey and I like meat and potatoes. I have a pet leopard gecko named Mr. Owen (named after a character in Agatha Christie's "Ten Little Indians"). I plan to be a theatre major at UW-Milwaukee next fall, and to minor in animation. I'm the only female tenor in the Milwaukee Irish Fest Choir. quote: "The world is rather bitter; that's why everyone wants sweet things." -The Undertaker, Kuroshitsuji

View all poems →

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.

Log in to leave a comment.