for many years you’ve been used and reused and reused again,
but not for once have you asked for break.
this is because you couldn’t talk.
if you could’ve, would you?

oh, many apologies.
i forgot that they couldn’t hear.

from the moment of your birth,
your fate was determined.
the delicate, accurate, polished embroiders are your teeth to chew
what can never be chewed.
but you chew it, as told.

not long after, it hit you that the food,
so called,
passes through your teeth every time.
“what does it taste like?”
you think to yourself daily,
no one gives you the exact answer.
again, you can’t speak, they can’t hear.

so you chewed on, day by day, day after day,
every once a while they come and change your comrade beside,
but not you. never you.

not long after, it hit you that the gears,
your kins, and you,
are changeable.
“where did they go?” you think as you chewed the unchewable,
no one cared to answer.

so you chewed on, day by day, day after day.

the music in this factory drove you crazy.
it was a symphony of iron and steel,
and maybe occasional pops from the pools
of stinkiest sulfuric acids.
you hated the music, so you chewed harder.

how sad; that wasn’t music at all,
real music is delightful, but they just don’t give you that, do they.

you can here the composer of that symphony yelling through the metal tempest:

“ye who remains firm o’ hard,
shall be taken to afar.
food provided, drinks served
in the hall of the metal king.”

what be the food, that they kept secret.

so you chewed on, day by day, day after day.

pop, you lost a tooth.

you heard the squeak, you felt the pain;
you saw the two-legs charge towards you,
and as their hands reached to not your comrades but you, your queries had their answers.

the food you chewed, they didn’t have any taste. it was just part of your job.
the place your comrades went to, it wasn’t a place. it was a state of life where others call death.

after all, you’re just a gear. you’re changeable, and you couldn’t speak.

and they wont hear you if you could.