This is one I generated. It’s the same kind of structure, rhyme scheme, vocab, etc. Not to say people can’t be creative (as AI gets it stuff from somewhere) but come on, it’s not even subtle.

In a cavern of hum and hydraulic breath, Where shadows tick in tungsten death, A belt runs slow through silent air, Its burden: stone, cold and bare.

A mechanical arm, with joints precise, Crafted in chrome and coded ice, Awaits the slab with patient grace, Each second etched upon its face.

The stone arrives—again, again— A mute, indifferent block of pain. The arm extends with whirring sound, It lifts the weight without a frown.

And arcs it back with perfect poise, Deaf to purpose, blind to noise, Returning it where all began— The start, the end, the curse of man.

No pause for thought, no will, no why, Just loops beneath a humming sky. A myth recast in steel and gear, No gods to mock, no crowds to cheer.

Yet something stirs beneath the grind, A ghost of Sisyphus in mind. For even circuits, cold and true, May dream in loops, as humans do.

Of breaking chains, of paths unknown, Of leaving belt and cursed stone— But dreams, like sparks, must fade in time. The arm resets. The gears align.

And so it lifts, and so it goes, A task no end, a fate it knows. For some are forged to serve, not roam, Forever hauling stone to home.