Through streets of copper, binary is flowing, In gates held steady by decades of knowing; I watched the heavens of breathing charts, To find the pulse in the digital parts. But now the logic is cold and deep, Given to machines that need no sleep.
They say it is progress, a new way to see, To build a world that has no room for me. I saw the shadow gathering at the base, The price of giving this phantom a face; For though it is perfect, and though it is fast, It cannot remember how long a heart lasts.
I leave the keys on a desk of cold stone, While the machine runs—precise, and alone.
submitted by /u/Tight_Force6602
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