by Nick Gisburne
I can’t be sure. I think I’m one of them.
My senses say I’m human. Would they lie?
The core of any mechanoid, the stem,
Is built to bend reality, or try.
Mechanicals who don’t know what they are
Were banned before the latest batch was bred,
But avarice has always raised the bar;
For money, gangs will hijack any head.
My paranoia doesn’t make me wrong.
I feel it. I’m a sabotaged machine.
By all the laws of life, I don’t belong,
Degenerate, unnatural, unclean.
I will not live as something I am not.
If I am right I’ll never take the shot.
