factories of endless thought

There are lands unknown,

Places many wonder about.

In dark halls we deny we have,

There are kept the machines

That eternally run.

When all is sleep,

Theirs is the endless work.

Although their guards are on constant watch.

The precision of the production is questionable.

When a machine wears out

Hardly anyone pays attention.

In the concealed towns of the mind

Vulnerable faculties are at work.

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