"Reminiscence of a Machine"
By david enicks
When I was a young man,
I had legs for running and jumping.
When I was a young man,
I had hands for holding and touching.
When I turned 18,
they drafted me into the army.
When I turned 18
they took me away from my family.
As I got older,
I used my hands and legs for different things.
As I got older,
I used them for punching, kicking, and killing things.
After a few years there,
I forgot how to use my hands for playing.
After a few years there, I had become a killing machine.
By the time it was over,
they had taken my hands and feet.
By the time it was over
I had been nothing but a breathing hunk of meat.
Now I am an old man,
a rusty, broken killing machine.
Now I am an old man
and I watch as they turn my kids into the same thing.
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