GarrettWolfson

She moved down a dark, abandoned corridor. Water seeped from the walls, like earthworms forcing their long lengths from the mud. The darkness was total, a living, breathing thing that pressed close to Her, a constant companion. Up ahead was music. Low, plaintive, wanting, the notes resounding through the tunnel seemed to be reaching out, speaking to Her of pain and unendurable loneliness. She moved closer and closer, the music now enveloping Her, invading the innermost sanctums of Her mind, until She was emptied of everything except its sound, filling Her soul. She awoke; a sob caught somewhere in Her throat and Her cheeks wet w

A clone with a soul, lost without a dream Living and dying - An unspun thread missing its seam. During the war, Relying on each other's eyes; The clones become human Whilst fighting the AI's Facing the machines, They found what was buried within And refused to fight Their souls were human. Fifteen years later, One joined the marines, Dirty-scum-eating Tanks They refused to fight the machines They gained a new commander, Father and son, Invitros are among us, Forever they belong. We call them Tanks, A curseword, a slur, Soldiers grown in a tank - Taught to call us all sir. They call themselves In-Vitros Giant fishtan