I wake to loudly grinding gears,
Pounding pistons in my ears,
Silent whispers in my head;
God only knows how I'm not dead.
I rise and stand on tired feet,
My body burned by steaming heat;
I smell the smoke and blazing fire,
The danger's near and just as dire.
I turn to run as workers yell,
It's close behind me, I can tell.
I see them at a geared machine;
It sparks, I taste its metal keen.
I look around the place I'm in,
The noise and light begins to spin;
And as I rise above the din,
I see, I feel, the World Within.

Your sentences border on senseless
And you are paranoid in every paragraph
How they perceive you

Experiencing an alien place,
A place where Phoebus' face
Fails to face the winds
That blow with subtracting grace.

A large green field,
Surrounded by white topped peaks
And the green waters that adds on to the greenery
And hits you with the blows of mist and mystery.

The delight of so vibrant a sight,
Soaking you in the atmosphere so light.
The cold, dark, smokey breaths
That you breathe out of your shivering cold
Breathed out with a rather warmed up heart
Giving your life an entirely new start.

And the glacial fed rivers,
The perennial rivers up north
That freeze in the dark winter
To overpower your damp sweaters.

The snowfall and the nightfall,
The contrast of black and white,
Of darkness and brightness,
The soft fall on the hard grounds,
The gentle touch on the roughness,
And you ask yourself,
Is this the real life?
Life it is, indeed.

Your words freeze as you speak,
Your thoughts freeze as you think,
Immerse yourself in the foggy glory!
Weave yourself a new life story!