Incompatible to the overall machine that runs the world, missing gears and missing bolts required to run efficiently and correctly. Failing power supply engorging selective sections that apply to nothing. Shadowed under perfection, hidden by inadequacy, lost by frustration. All of these things add up to form an incorrect formula, one that exists only to confuse the masses. There is a light, a pulsating faint glow that burns deep within the nest of wires and electricity. Through its radiance it puts out the need, the want to excel, and the urge to change something in life. Yet to the observer it would appear the pulse lacks the strength to encourage the machine to get going, when in reality the machine feels as if the pulse is over flowing the capacity and potential. As life glides by on the wings of time, the machine cant help but feel grounded. Things in the horizon never come closer, and those objects in the background pass up the machine. It is always stuck in a neutral gear, doomed in a life long nightmare to a stationed situation. Falling apart, pieces of intelligence and sanity are worn and broken off by the stress winds. The winds work down at the machine, carefully smoothing away years of dedication, grooving away all inventive features. It tries desperately to dig its feet into the ground, to brace itself against the archaic wind that has become a cliché in its life. Yet all of this is just a scratch in the record of its life. The palpable fact that past repeats itself ten fold over, regardless of the redundancy and uselessness. Is this fair, to be shackled down in a prison full of depressions and regressions? To be blind and deaf, allowing only the darkened imagination to roam rampant upon the naked senses? Fair is just a meaningless word at this time now. A blank piece of paper more than willing to be handed out as false hope and dissipate it as it dissolves in the shaking hands of the eager. Fair now only holds the same weight as a pocket of air. A mechanical shrug fills the room and signifies the automated response to troubles. Another year is quickly approaching, and the machine finds that nothing has changed at all. For years it had grown up, matured, expanded and swelled with mental and physical energy. Yet at some point in its life the growing stopped. The years kept on coming and it was gradually getting older, but all progress had stopped. Some black magic had been cast as the maturity and growth proceeded, and suddenly it all stopped and took two steps back. From that point on nothing was ever the same, and contradictory to that; everything was frozen in place after that. So much that was promised at the point of production was as quickly dismissed as a troubled youth. The road that was paved ahead contained the pledge of success and carefree behavior. That road that gleamed so sharply in the glistening eye of a hopeful now lies in ruins of Armageddon proportions. Part of it still seems passable to the optimistic, yet carefully laid footsteps soon end in shouts of pain from broken ankles. It appears it may be possible to get past all of this, and only though positive thinking may it become. Unfortunately when it comes to this road, the optimistic warrior flees in the site of despair. All is left is the sidekick, who is but a naked newborn in this field. It does what is has been taught to do earlier in life, and that is to follow its leader. Dropping all possessions it runs off into the darkness, away from the darkness. Quick on its heels the dogs of a child’s nightmare nip and threaten to trip. Surpassing its limit, fire filled tears streak down. The thighs turn into a cauldron boiling with lava, and the lungs are filled with the icy burn of exhaustion. A tiny pebble in the ground catches a foot wrong and the sidekick is sent sprawling face first into the dirt. Crash landing, it slides deep within the unforgiving earth leaving a dust trail in its wake. The last bit of dust hits the ground just in time to catch the silence rise into the air. Moments pass and soon the body on the ground shudders and shakes. Muffled cries accompany the shaking body and soon the soil begins to swallow the tears. More crying continues and soon it seems as if the air around the sidekick frowns with compassion. At long last the sidekick lifts its head and catches light beyond blurred eyes. Eager for any offering, willing to grasp a hand to pull it out of this devouring pit, its heart begins to pound with anticipation. Ignoring the pains that cut through toleration, it stands up and starts walking towards that glowing aura. The closer it gets, the more the darkness seeps away, the more the lightness slides in. Soon the milky white light is caressing the sidekicks face, offering as much gentle compassion as an experienced mother. It feels the ailments writher up inside, and the dam to its health broken inside. Each step advances into a stride, and each stride births a run. Soon the sidekick is running to the area up ahead so it can bath in the light. The shadows behind him are becoming the fading memory and only thoughts of the future and promise dance. Everything inside the sidekick swells with pure innocent joy, and finally the sidekick arrives to its haven. Light radiates off the machine, catching every metal piece and reflecting it as master craftsmanship. With arms wide open, hugging the light that has accepted it, the machine spins around in circles. The machine is returning to the time when it used to spin around in a field, letting the warm air lick its face, returning to a time where childhood memories were real time realities. Suddenly the white light is sucked away, and the warmth freezes. The machines spin slowly dwindles down to a confused turn, looking for where the light had gone, looking for the demon that had stolen away its warmth. The night is back, as always, just as it had been in the past. The shadows had returned, with nightmares and villains as the menacing posse. The machine falls to the floor, hating itself for being so stupid to believe it had finally found its finally peace. It tries to cherish the memory of just a few seconds ago, but those memories have already retreated to the corners of its mind, afraid of what occupies the rest. History repeats itself once more, how idiotic for this machine to believe it could beat the system.