The gears don't just turn;
they gnash—teeth of industry,
blood-stained from forgotten hands.
Whispers don’t drift;
they crack like breaking glass,
but no one listens.
Faces sink into hollow screens,
cogs spinning louder than their voices.
......
The gears don't just turn;
they gnash—teeth of industry,
blood-stained from forgotten hands.
Whispers don’t drift;
they crack like breaking glass,
but no one listens.
Faces sink into hollow screens,
cogs spinning louder than their voices.
......