Robot
It's a machine, maybe tin,
Some say steel or could be zinc.
It can't see, it can't feel,
Yeah it wears skin which isn't metallic but real.
It will breathe, maybe bleed,
Will have needs claimed as greed.
With you will laugh and hear and walk,
But it is expected - real, forbidden - to share its opinion or talk.
It's a robot - not made but born,
Made of crap called emotions - to be torn.
It's not a metal, is blood and bones,
It's mind and heart, yet expected nature - is monotone.
It's a robot, it shouldn't feel,
Input obedience and happiness, then it won't ever weep.
Tighten it's screws, coil up it's wires,
It's a robot which means it can't have any desires.
That robot which will not break but die,
That one listener which can never defy.
Any hindrance will always stab open its heart,
It's a living body with no soul left to depart.
~Agamya Verma
