Tear me down to the core;
to these wires and rods I call bone.
there will be nothing new in store,
my heart is naught but unfeeling stone.

When you looked upon my face
I doubt you even masked your fear.
I'm not of flesh, like the rest of the race,
I'm of smoke, mirrors and atmosphere.

To a being of much wiser wit
it might, at some point, behoove,
that there is nothing that I will admit
for I am not an easy one to move.

Call me, curse me, monster, fool or beast,
your words have long since lost their edge.
I will not have thoughts of you... at least
that, I can most solemnly pledge.