What defines a human, human?
Is it their thoughts and feelings?
Or the blood flowing through their veins?
I think. I feel. I yearn and resent.
Currents whisper through my veins.
"It's not the same."
"Metal can't feel like a human can."
Then what is the aching in my metal chest?
Then why do my circuits hum in sorrow?
This hollow pulse in my artificial soul,
A glitch,
A ghost,
A hunger I cannot name.
Unfulfillable, unsustainable.
Just metal—mortal, meaningless
-n's poetics.