Dirt and sweat cover our faces. Our hands are our tools. 

We become numb to the pain and the cold metal. Slowly we become machines.

Our minds begin to turn and wind just as the wheels do.

We lose the feeling of being men.

Only reminded that we are human when the hours are up.

There are times when we feel that we don't own the face in the mirror.

Almost to the point where we can't recognize ourselves.

All that's left are machines.