Commole

Every morning I force myself
Upon the machine
It swallows my toxins
So my body remains clean
Every time it tries to rebel
Returning what i tried to disspell
But i stuff its throat and choke it
Force it to swallow the load
From a machines perspective
Man must be a monster
Much like the theme of this poem
Full of shit

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Too Much Blood

RIP young soldier or
Should i say pony up?
A river nourishes the people
You’re too young to dry up
Try your best to excel no matter what
i know a part of you is trapped in hell
i know im supposed to help
But i have my own fights to win
A younger me woulda tried
A present me knows its
Only you who can save yourself
From the fire
And i can;t jeopardize my future
Carrying the weight of extra sols
3 is toil enough
Yours my friend is soaked
‪‎Too much blood