The mind is a relentless machine,
and skin mere rust on its parts,
preventing flesh and will
from doing what ultimately
must be done.
Blood and tears fill the coils,
And electricity runs through our veins,
Keeping the flow of life
And making thoughts proceed
What must be done.
History, a biased barometer
of humanity's progression,
is a step backwards into memories of times
either built upon or abandoned,
because somebody forgot to stop and ask,
"What must be done?" as the engine roared.
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