I've conjured a clone More successful, more attractive, more lively than me. Taking them into my home, I feed and take care of them, I polish their bolts and bits. How I wish my bones could shine silver like their aluminum ribs. I dream of being as productive and managing, As talented, daring Motivated, driven. I sometimes get the urge to peek under my skin to search for foil bones, But I crave more than the cold sensation of chrome. Tell me, Why do I feel this way? If I'm machine, Where will I go when you die? Where will I stay? My dear friend, I do not have answers, I only have more questions for us to ponder. However, I believe when I lay down to sleep Your engine turns off, And your gears stop turning. When this happens do you imagine a dream? Or do you imagine you are living?