The People Factory

Inside the echoing halls of The People Factory,

machines hum with purpose,

their gears turning in measured rhythm,

assembling lives from fragments of possibility.

Dreams are poured into molds,

some small, some towering�"

no two shaped alike,

yet all cast from the same raw ore of longing.

In one corner, laughter spills in bright hues,

splashed carelessly across young faces.

In another, the weight of sorrow is measured,

carefully calibrated, folded into quiet souls.

Hands sculpt hands,

curved to cradle,

to build, to destroy,

to hold the worlds they are given or abandon them.

The walls breathe stories,

layered in whispers and shouts,

each life a tapestry of unfinished threads

dangling into the unbounded air.

No manual exists for The People Factory,

no levers to pull for perfection.

It runs on chaos and order,

on what-ifs and what-must-bes.

And when the doors open,

each creation steps out�"

unfinished, unpolished,

into the wild uncertainty of existence.

Reviews

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

Great write thanks for your entry