Stiffly,
on a couch alone,
I sit.
The internal tick of my
mechanical heart
(resting in the hollow cavity
of this metal shell)
matches beat with
the base-line of a song pounding
through the carpeted ground.
(spouted from auxiliary technology)
It’s muffled words sound like a robot’s lullaby
soothing my
mainframe mind whirling.
Fabricated eyes shut
and I dream of
mortality.
A contest entry
- Thougts of a Robot by star wars fanatic.
450 points, ended September 9, 2007, 14 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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:-)
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Oh, what word choice! That was very nicely put together and very thought-provoking. I imagine some of us wish we were robots some days too. The grass is always greener... I guess.
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