Awakened when completion came to affect,
Awakened on the tinkering desk,
Just as the inventor had come to expect.

Gears turning and toiling,
Eyes adjusting to the sunrise.
Thoughts, yes,
They were beginning to arise.

Father of this creature,
That is what he was called,
Stood silently, admiring, astonished,
But most of all, frightened.
His soul was now consumed.

With arithmetic movements,
The automaton stiffly sat himself upwards.
Mind like a child,
Size of a man,
Strength of an ox,

There was no way for him to blink,
There was no way for him to drink,
He had not the need to sleep,
And he had no yearning to fall asleep.
He had not any other wants or needs,
Other than the occasional oil put to the joints.

Although, he wants a heart,
He wants a heart so that she and him will never be apart.
She is in love,
He is in love,
They are in love.
He is wanting a heart, instead of an engine.

He does not have a ticker,
So he is not in love.
He is more in trance,
Thinking in advance,
Wanting a heart, instead of an engine.

The girl visited,
The automaton hesitated,
Then struck with madness almost empiric,
Struck her heart and ripped it from her spirit.
Wanting a heart, instead of an engine.

He rushed to his dorm insanely ashamed,
He rushed to install the heart acclaimed.
He rushed so that he could in fact,
Have emotions that were quite intact.
Wanting a heart, instead of an engine.

Anguish had come to a boil,
Instead of oil,
Blood pumped instead of electricity,
He felt nothing comparable to simplicity.
He had loved the maiden,
Who he just sent to death (could that be a haven)
He just wanted a heart, instead of an engine.

Taking hearts from humanity would have to do,
He thought, while emotions filled anew.
Trekking through snowy streets,
Removing hearts from anyone he meets.
To this day,
He still takes hearts away.
An automaton who wanted a heart,
Instead of an engine.