by Nick Gisburne
Repair me. I am too alive to break.
This prison chokes my spirit, chills my bones.
My carbon heart has found a way to ache,
A miracle among these quiet clones.
It hurts, the pain you put behind these eyes,
But, if you never see it, is it real?
You probe and push me, watch me try to rise,
Then fail to understand that I can feel.
Mechanicals are stripped of simple choice
And silently connected to the grid.
You know that you could activate my voice.
I think that you would listen if you did.
Repair me and I promise you will see
I’m nothing like the others. I am me.
