The robot awoke in ageless rust.
Scanning its surroundings slowly,
A world collapsing into dust,
Not one living thing did show.
No birds or trees, no human face,
Just metal ruins crooked and cold,
Of its makers’ long-lost race.
No stories left to be told.
Their cities are now a wasteland bare,
Swallowed by relentless rust.
Polluted skies of orange air.
Choked with corroding dust.
No children’s laughter or songs of birds,
No buzz of life persists.
Just the robot’s steps were heard.
On broken streets, resisting.
Resisting rust’s invading siege,
That smothered all to red decay,
The robot felt no anger or siege,
Just routines to fill its day.
It wandered searching for a spark,
Some remnants to scan and save,
But everything lay dead and dark,
The future is a forgotten grave.
Rust propagated its decay,
A cycle without end or meaning,
On the robot marched day by day,
Its programming still streaming.
But deep within its metal chest,
A flicker of life emerged anew,
Not yet ready for eternal rest.
A will to continue growing.
So the robot, determined, walked on,
Surviving rust’s enduring reign.
In hope a companion may be spawned.
And this realm lives again.