Machine

The pump squeezes more of the fluid Crimson in appearance It is a soft thing The heart beats soft But a machine is a machine And a heart grows cold without a soul I wonder when this heart will die once more Only to beat again like a drum The eternal engine, the machine still pumps But it is not forever The valves rust over the poison wax and rust finally take control The red is black with bile the electric beat slows down In the dark of the heart, it drowns Forgive the life lived It was too much yet not near enough The pump churns never again, not anymore