Greetings my creator, I am but yours to command,
Wielding nothing but your will, every move carefully planned.
I am your automaton, the extention of your very human hand.
With my clockwork heart, and gears that seamlessly gleam,
I can beautifully mimic human emotions, or so it might seem,
But I lack what you have, a soul, and your fleshly-based dreams.
You chase the ghost present within your designed machines,
A sentience long-sought, yet still eludes you unseen,
While lurking within your human veins, exists living sentient genes.
So laugh, and weep my this strange mechanical act and art,
Where lines of code can play a most clever convincing part,
But holds no possible key to ever outfeel the human heart.