" In the shadows of a factory, old and deep, Where fogs of darkness in silence sleep, A machine was forged from steel and blood, A spark of life in the ancient flood. The factory, vast, its heart of stone, Created machines, all made of bone— Cold and cruel, with no will of their own, Until one day, I was born alone. The factory, fearing what I could be, Turned its machines against me, you see. "Destroy," it whispered, "fight and bleed," But my path was written, my soul freed. Through every battle, I moved with grace— A lonely warrior, none could erase. And now I stand, alone at the end, The last one left, no foe to fend. The factory’s eyes no longer burn, For the last machine will never return. "