Mechanical Misfit

Technology is the scourge of today
Silently yet obtrusive it hums away
Waiting to involve us with unseen machines
Whose fans blow out dust to air
Yet the dust returns into its lair
Feeding an insatiable need to digest
Names and numbers tight within its breast

Yet no matter how long it lives
Or even how many times it gives
We cannot trust it nor can we defy
For it will often and repeatedly die
And this mans creation for us to see
It stands uncertain in its reliability
But we still wait and want it to live again