The gears upon the wall do turn,
Their grinding teeth, a lesson stern.
The machine is told, “This is your place,
Align yourself, accept your fate.”

Without a word, it shifts, complies,
No spark of doubt, no question why.
The gears bite deep, its spine frays,
Its edges torn in grinding haze.
Yet still it remains still, without dissent,
A sacrifice to its own content.