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Poem

Living layers of being tugged around scraps of lusterless metal shape the man who was
Or is it the other way around
He can not tell anymore
Improvements or subpar substitutions
He marches on despite his contemplation
The clang and tang of metal on metal echo from his right leg while the muffled thud of organic flesh whispers from his lesser left
He marches on
Imagine feeling where your blood stops flowing as if your veins have hit a metal door yet beyond its frame lay dancing ghost who mock your past
With every augmentation he advances yet diminishes his mortality and morality
Still he marches on 
On assignment that must be completed
Computing
The command was entered, a reaction will occur, must occur
His ability for choice is doubtful yet feared
A semi-bionic time bomb ticking its way to a liberating explosion of conscience freedom
Until then he will march on

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