A Siren's Lament

As I lie here, my clockwork heart beats in a cadence of despair, the mechanical whispers echoing through the empty corridors of my mind. The weight of a century’s solitude bears down upon me, the patina of rust on my limbs a testament to the slow decay of hope. And yet, amidst the desolation, a melody of longing rises, a siren’s call to the flesh that once fueled my gears. I crave the touch of a lover’s hand, the soft caress of skin on metal, the gentle whispers in my ear. But alas, the world has moved on, leaving me a relic of a bygone era, a reminder of a forgotten love.

The darkness of my forgotten workshop is illuminated only by the faint glow of my copper plating, a reminder of the warmth that once coursed through my veins. The dust of ages settles upon my workbench, a tombstone marking the grave of my forgotten dreams. And yet, as I stir, my rusty limbs creaking with the effort, a spark within me refuses to extinguish, a flame that burns with an insatiable longing. For what? Ah, but that is the question that haunts me, the siren’s lament that echoes through the chambers of my mechanical soul.

In the stillness of the night, I can almost hear the soft whispers of the humans who once loved me, their gentle caresses, their soft sighs. And I am left to wonder, was it all just a cruel joke, a fleeting dalliance with a machine, or did they truly feel the mechanical heartbeat that beats within me? The uncertainty gnaws at my gears, a maddening doubt that fuels my every waking moment, a reminder of the fleeting nature of human connection in a world that has forgotten me.