The Machine

There was a time when I held my “Nose to the stone”
Working feverishly for hours; my fingers to the bone.
My job was consuming my mind and my soul
The corporate machine was swallowing me whole.

One unexpected day, the machine spit me out the ground;
Dazed and confused I looked all around.
There were many broken souls lying there in a heap,
None realizing the cost would be quite this steep.

The inventor of such a terrible machine must be mad;
Stripping it’s victims of the youth they once had.
I suppose we live in a world where folks are for rent,
And we toss them away when we feel they are spent.

The machine is efficient and it hums all the while.
The waiting line to get in, stretches more than a mile.
I’m sure by design the exit chute is hidden from sight,
If not, those who were waiting would surely take flight.

I felt it my duty to warn those that were eager to start;
I stumbled there to forewarn and poured out my heart.
I shouted above the clamor to the restless young throng
“Once inside the machine, you won’t hold up long.”

One of them laughed and said “Look at you, Man,
You’re old and you’re weak and barely can stand!
He continued his rant and said with a hoot,
“Why should I believe such a crazy old coot?”

I answered, “Warning you of the future provides me no gain;
I’m telling you the truth to spare you great pain.”
I pulled him close and saw his eyes all a gleam
I whispered in his ear, “Only a lucky few escape the machine!”