|
| |
Robot
Electric arms.
Rustly shoulders.
Turning on and off.
Shouldn't hurt, but it pinches a bit.
Swallowing toxic oil.
That is so tasty.
But I can’t taste.
And I can’t die for some reason.
I don’t ask why.
They ask me things.
I’m a robot in that way.
They ask me all sorts of things.
That tickles me but I don’t react much.
Just answer after 0.4 seconds.
I wonder what it would be like to be a robot.
I ask myself because I know.
The cycle continues.
Being a robot is not having a full range of motion with your limbs.
But still having limbs of some sort.
Having buttons that seemingly don’t do much.
Electric arms.
Rustly shoulders.
A good attitude.
That no one appreciates.
A robotic voice.
Whirling.
Toxic burning inside.
I can’t die for some reason.
Which they say I shouldn’t care too much about.
Copyright ©
Angelica Tao
|
|