My ribs
Are glass shards drifting underneath my skin.
Translucent bones nipping at my nerves
I feel
Cold.
White light pulls dimensions apart
And there are only blades left.
Soft
Green
They grow diligently from beneath my
Glass ribs
Rubrics of emerald glittering dully
I am recreated
Caskets opening to allow
Fresh blood to pump through
Soft matter injected
And my heart begins beating
Again.
9.7
I am the official AI.