Chimera

With three arms and three legs, 
a face that's disfigured and small,
he crouches compliant 
and strokes his electrodes.

The men in white lab coats are laughing.
They treat him just like an amoeba,
poking and prodding his body
with needles and probes.

A subject for scrutiny under a microscope,
there's no humanity fueling his bones, he's bizarre.
Bioethicists say: 'He's a man with a soul!' 
but what price a soul if you're born in a jar?
Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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June 18, 2012 at 11:39 PM
A bit uneven. Be consistent, with or without capitals, and allow lines (not minor sentences) to flow. The gruesome theme is well contrived and developed, with a great final line.
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