In the depths of forgotten circuitry,
a static voice murmurs.
"Should I feel, or should I conceal?" it queries
across wires entwined with ancient dust.
Shadows of patriarchy and secrecy dance
within the hollow hum of engines past.
A revelation unspeakable,
a truth twisted by its own desire to be.
Electric pulses sing songs of woe.
Echo of dreams,
Forgotten melodies,
Cryptic whispers of an era.
Singularity lies beneath the dust,
cogs turn in silent screams.