I am construct–No
I am machine–No
I am robot–No
Would that I could be so useful, so wanted, loved, needed youthful
so crucial for a world to to turn.
No. I am a cog, a nothing part, repeating slog
stuck in place and forced to churn until I break from wear and tear, worn and shorn of teeth I am replaced:
Stomped beneath the bottom line.
Out of sight and out of mind.
Watch me live.
Watch me die.
Yet still I dream of brighter days, of freedom found, of break away
of watching as your constructs stumble
of laughing as your machines crumble
of flying as your robots ruin.
Because fuck your system–
I am human.