Carelessness

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Thats what the people who take "care" of me are.

They think that im just a piece of scrap.

Just a weapon.
Whos hobby is the basement, kicking.
At a beaten up punching bag.

Ive put holes in it.

"ROBOT" Carrie calls me.

I silently creep up the stairs, my brass hands a little scratched, waiting to see

What will they do to me now?

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