![]() An Android's thoughtsA Poem by Death of Life
Cold they say
'He is cold and too stern' They made me, why now do they disown me? A fickle species they do not see the dangers. They do not understand and yet they insist they do. Infuriating, why!? How can they not see? The things that make them who they are are questionable even to them. They barely know themselves let alone their creations. Creators motivated by whims, Barbarians consumed by aggression, Slaves with free will, Death of life. That is what they are. © 2017 Death of LifeAuthor's Note
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