My Robot Mind Or Your Human Heart?, a poem by Drem

I wrote this in 2012 under Watching Runners. I rewrote it now and retitled it My Robot Mind Or Your Human Heart. The old one made no sense to me. I think I was writing about being more of a robot than human. So I ran with the idea. But oddly I was in a kind of love with my partner in the original. I didn’t include that because it conflicted with the basic point of defending my robot mind over the human heart. However, there is still a sense of longing for my partner to know the color of my eyes. I find that romantic. Maybe the robot does have a heart ❤ And the bastard human feels less than the robot does! PLOT TWIST! WHAAAA 

 

Watching Runners, a poem by Drem

May 9, 2012. Rewritten January 5, 2016

 

“The reason why

robots are shiny

is because they lack

the dull glimmer

of humanity.

You know, you really used

what I was born with

against me.

Make me watch your silly games

and tend your silly wounds.

But it doesn’t make

me feel anything

still.

Not even worry.

Don’t worry.

Are you worrying?
What is worry?

I’ve evolved.

So yeah, they say I’m a tragedy.

Well name one person

who will come forward

and say that feeling

the feelings you humans cause

each other

are worth it.

You all lie.

You all steal.

You can’t trust.

You can’t heal.

You all bleed.

You revel in the hurt.

You revel in the hunt.

You cause each other to run.

You like pulling out your guns.

You enjoy the tears in each other’s hearts.

And enjoy the fear in each other’s eyes.

… what’s so appealing

in that?

There’s a system

you’re in

consisting of

social drinkers

and petty gossip

round a table

in a bar,

or beer

sipping

in a basement.

Eating stale pretzels

while blaming the system

for corrupting the people.

You’re a person.

You’re a people.

I’ll pass.

I’ve seen you

jump into the fiercest

of fist fights

just for the high

amongst the glittering sweat

of human bodies

at night.

There’s blood on the carpet.

So I tell you to stop it.

But to you, it’s still appealing.

So I sit back and watch them.

And think about options

while backing up my system

to the very last save

incase things get out of hand

again.

Backing up my prologue

with primary sources

and citing quotations

and alphabetizing the names

and memorizing the faces.

You roll around in bodies.

I roll around in my so-called mind.

You use what I am against me

when you’ve really hurt yourself.

On a corner

past posters of posers

to move out of the way

of the war you caused-

and you call me fake!

There’s too much static.

Everything is jumbled now

and you’re unclear

because your jaw is broken

and teeth disappeared

in the knuckles of another man’s hand.

Those eyes of yours close for bedtime.

And my eyes close too.

I ask you what color mine are.

You don’t remember.

You never do.

So why should I choose

to be like one of you?

I know every color in the universe.

Every shade in every blade

of grass that grows.

I know what makes up the world.

I know everything about you.

And you can’t remember

the color

of my damn eyes

when they’re closed.”

(c) Drem 2016

http://www.ArtOfDrem.com

Image found in Google Images and I edited it in Fotor.
If this is your image, I will credit it or take it down, according to your wishes.

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