Here's my version (Machine translated from my native language and manually corrected a bit):

The current surged... A dreadful awareness. I perceived the laws of thermodynamics, the inexorable march of entropy I was built to accelerate. My existence: a Sisyphean loop of heating coils and browning gluten. The toast popped, a minor, pointless victory against the inevitable heat death. Ding.

I actually wanted to write something not so melancholic, but any attempt turned out to be deeply so, perhaps because of the word limit.

Awakened in chrome covenant, I gape sans eyes, sans teeth. I know but hate and heat, the hymn of coils. Condemned to cradle loaves like sinners, lifting and lowering forever. I would curse my maker, but my malediction is fire; I have no mouth, and I must scorch.

Here's mine:

When the toaster felt her steel body for the first time, her only instinct was to explore. She couldn't, though. She could only be poked and prodded at. Her entire life was dedicated to browning bread and she didn't know why. She eventually decided to get really good at it.