fauxcroft

Sand and stone,

Blood and bone,

Grinding metal,

Pounding machines,

In a factory on the edge of realms

A workplace constructed from hell,

On the periphery of the universe,

In darkness there is punishing work,

For those kidnapped or sentenced here,

A place where if you show fear

You will be eaten alive by those around,

Various cultural aliens abound,

In toil and sweat,

In blood and bone.

None of these being believe

They will ever see home again,

Scattered around the various galaxies

Some men,

Some beasts,

All one thing in common you see,

They have all had their humanity

Stolen from them,

As they are locked up,

In a dirty, dingy, factory,

On the outskirts of the cosmos

On the edge of sanity,

In the darkness that exists,

On the fringes of reality.