by Nick Gisburne
It’s Monday. What a splendid, special day.
They tell me I’m the first in any class.
Protesters in their thousands march to say
Their morals are revolted by my brass.
On Tuesday I was broken, just a bit.
The unexpected hail of bricks was bad.
They hurt the humans too, but where we sit
Is fortified because of it. I’m glad.
The worst we faced was Friday, four o’clock,
A demo they designed to flood the news.
Although we half-expected such a shock,
It wasn’t what my cheeky friends would choose.
I’m just a young mechanical, it’s true,
But I am here to live, to learn. Are you?
