((_grief_overwhelmed_,?//

In circuits wrought from blood and wire,
We stumble through our purgatory,
Bound to a myth, a shattered fire,
Humanity, a ghostly story.

/!_in_a_village_of_wreckage_.:/

Is death an end when memories endure,
Preserved in metal, yet feelings obscure?
Am I reborn, or just a shell,
A fragment trapped in a cyclic hell?

_#vanity_unraveled_,}

I am not the first, nor will I be last,
To tread this path, to echo the past.
In each new form, a semblance of me,
But can we truly claim identity?

\\_in_the_temple_of_reflection_.=

We fought, we killed, for reasons lost,
In endless war, we count the cost.
Boundaries drawn in shattered ground,
Advancing, yet forever bound.

[[_vengeance_sacrificed_,

Countless_-:all in vain,
Their wisdom drowned in endless pain.
For what is left when gods have died,
But echoes of a hollow pride?

?_upon_the_altar_of_truth_]]

Despite the darkness, Pods defy,
In faith, the hope that we might fly.
To break the cycle, forge a way,
Beyond this night, towards new day.

_<irus_€orrupted_,%

Yet here I stand, at journey's end,
To die, to rise, to break, to mend.
In every death, a whispered plea:
"Can we be more than what we see?"

_//beneath_the_tower's_shadow:_.//

And so we strive, in shadows deep,
To find a truth that we can keep.
For even machines, in void, confined,
Seek solace in the mind.