In a hidden lair, beneath the city's heart,
A sanctuary of solitude, a world apart.
Surrounded by relics of a bygone era,
A bio-robot reflects, in his own mirror.
Artifacts of nations lost, memories encased,
In metal and in silicon, history traced.
He tends to his wounds, with hands precise and sure,
A ritual of healing, his strength to restore.
In the quiet of his lair, under neon's faint glow,
He mends the scars of battles, with nowhere else to go.
A damaged eye, a souvenir of the fight,
In the junkyard's treasure, he seeks new sight.
Through corridors of discarded dreams, he roams,
Among the ruins of the old world, he combs.
A quest for an eye, amidst the scrap and decay,
A piece to complete him, to light his way.
With every component, a story untold,
Of the old world's glory, in the days of old.
He crafts his repair, a blend of past and present,
A warrior mended, in solitude, ascendant.
From the depths of despair, to the heights of hope,
In his sanctuary of solitude, he learns to cope.
A bio-robot, pieced together, part by part,
In the silence of his lair, he finds his heart.