People grow colder, day by day,
their hearts like steel, they fade away.
Like machines, they move, they strive,
but in their pulse, there’s little life.
They function well, from dawn to night,
lost in gears, devoid of light.
The soul is quiet, the spark is gone,
where once a heart beat strong and warm.
Yet deep within, beneath the frost,
there’s still a soul, not wholly lost.
Perhaps one day, if we break free,
we’ll live again, not just be.