Mechanical Whispers

In the silence, it churns, a slow steady hum,

a printer’s heartbeat, monotonous drum.

Paper crinkles, feeding into its maw,

churning out deadlines that leave me in awe.

The clock on the wall ticks its endless refrain,

as I sit with my thoughts, tangled in strain.

Mechanical whispers, their promise so stark,

fill the stillness with burdens that shadow the dark.