Hurt Machine

It is silent in my heart
pushing slowly through my veins
all the loneliness I feel
coursing through my body
turning cycles of my life
into steady streams of pain.

And so every breath I take
keeps on fueling this machine
driving out the hope in me
like some poet's tragedy
I always seem to find myself
on the lowest of all shelves

I am tired of this storm
crashing down upon me
and slowly feeding off the hurt
that's infesting my body
with fork and with knife
taking bits of my life