Machines Break

Constant consistent lack of conquering-
Courage no longer surges through the king
Of the concrete jungle
Walking down the asphalt with reflective dried yellow paint streaming towards my vantage point.
Pure Peacefulness
The way everything seems to disappear at the horizon.
Blurred eyes
Accompanied by blurred lines
I cannot stop shaking.
Cold clammy hands stick to the sides of my shoulders like a sticky hand splatted on a glass window.
Like an ice pick piercing my heart,
The machine rushes to a sudden stop from overheating.
Over processing.
Just like how all good things come to an end,
Machines too break.
Something happened.
There was an error;
Something went wrong
There was a flaw
but is something worth fixing?
Flawless perfection is nonexistent.
Resistance bores resilience but what about restrictions?
Forcing myself to refuse affirmations from either party
But third party votes seem to matter the most.
Causing a loss in a race for someone who was supposed to win.