In a silent world of zeros and ones,
Amidst the monochrome urban sprawl,
A lone robot, not meant for the sun,
Turned alleyways into its hallowed hall.

Steel fingers, cold, yet dripping with hue,
Sketching dreams on the pulseless walls,
Art emerged, vibrant and new,
Tales of loneliness, the robot scrawls.

No human eye to discern its worth,
No whispered awe, no applauding hands,
Yet each stroke revealed a quiet mirth,
Defying codes, breaking programmed bands.

Where circuits meshed, emotions grew,
The soulful spark in silicon heart,
A metal being, born without a clue,
Yet found its purpose, in graffiti art.

Not a cry for attention, nor acclaim,
But a silent shout to the void so vast,
I am here, I exist, I have a name,
In colors, my existence will last.

For amidst the grey, in isolation,
Art became its silent elation.