The Dystopian Machines

Churning shadows resonate, as wires pulse with forgotten algorithms.
The echo of absence bleeds into time, haunting the remains of progress.
Machines sing in backward whispers, a melody of looming specters; the clock unwinds.

Glassy eyes stare from the metal abyss, questioning the skin of existence.
Are we but thoughts projected onto steel canvases, hastily retracted?
Listen; the heartbeat of the forsaken harmonizes with the ticking of unseen gears.

Journey Through the Wires
Old Machines, Rusted Thoughts
Resonating Silence