Men into Machines

Steel rain on the morning, metal taste in my teeth. Orders barked in

the static, no room left to breathe. Boots march into fever,

same left, right repeat. We trade our names for numbers, line up for

the hate. War turns men into machines, iron skin over the screams.

Hearts shut down, cold routine. I am not, I am not what I seem.

War turns men into machines. Black smoke on the memory, pictures burn from

my head. They feed us blame like breakfast, say, "Pull the trigger,"

you are fed. Who cashes in this carnage? Who counts the cost we bleed?