• Somewhere in the sacred silence are we who scream for help.

    Slowly the wheel of life turns, out of control, jerking to and fro.

    Stabbing pains is for all who could only wish they could of felt.

    Sometimes when their clocks stop, time is lost and they wish for more.

    It’s Sadness two point oh.

    Interrupt this sequence; this is the only program I know.

    Inevitable failure is behind every firewall.

    In my ones to my zeros,

    Is there a hero for everyone?

    I feel like error 404,

    Never loved, never understood, and who only brings pain.

    Nothing in this World Wide Web,

    Can hold me closer than my mother board

    Always huddled in an Error Correcting state,

    Nonstop preparation for a hasty deletion.

    Install some feeling to this cold case you call me.

    With but a fan to put out the fire,

    The newer models are to what I aspire.

    Sleek, cool, and adaptable,

    The only thing they lack is being presentable.

    I may not be shiny, new, and fully functional

    But I know how to run these programs.

    Where they trip,

    I’ve already leapt that gap.

    Where they crash and burn,

    I take a seat and just feel my discs turn.

    Soon they will be traded for shinier and new,

    But to the new little processers I will be more than enough.