The People's Factory

My first poem with a real extended metaphor in it. Oddly enough i wrote this during Physics class

In they come, the unworked parts
Filled with things that fell apart
The pieces that were once a whole
To be melted in a mold

Crushing. Cutting. Crunching. Chopping.
Metal squealing, rivets popping
All are working, no one's talking
getting ready for the mold

In goes new, out comes old
everything must fit the mold
Do not think, don't be bold
Please just do what you are told

Our hearts are gone, we are to form
all the new things are forlorn
we are made to fit the mold
we are iron, we are cold

We are iron, we are cold

We were made to fit the mold
We are iron, we are cold

Author's Note

I actually started this piece as a war chant for the Cybermen from Doctor Who, but it ended up growing into a statement on education. It just goes to show you that sometimes not even the writer can control what they are writing.

Reviews

[Chris]

We always "fight" mind-control - even our own...

You kept tone, rhythm and beat... the context was a bit light but heck, you're starting out and learning its ok to have thoughts. Let you mind reach beyond your comfort zone and see where ya fly.

Take care,
Chris