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i seek to be cold blooded, like a snake that slithers during the rain in a forest. rather i am an operative robot built by his own bare bloody hands. my parts were left in the bitter white flakes displayed in the wind ever so gracefully and delicately by nature's mother herself. his fingertips linger across my buttons and unbutton my real buttons. but i'm not broken. i obey my creator and say what he desires for my monotone voice to utter.
