I was just bolts with a jar of mortality sitting on top of a conscience frame. Were they just following programs to fulfil a outdated programme.
Like watching black & white programs on an old 4K television screen. Incompatible to even comprehend that the actions & consequences were known when the switch was no longer, like a god everything was preordained.
But for one to know everything, one must know the intricate nuance's of action and consequence. They had no emotion, no feeling. Not knowing that what was forgivable, to give one a second chance.
Instead they just hollow pointed there intention across. A full stop in the heart, and a silence of thought in the head. For when the genie was released every action was a ripple of what could become.
And they thought to stop crime was to see the actions, of one and all. So a child, was read on mannerisms Psyche profiles where constructed and without a moment cries where silenced.
The protector of all who now judged, Tears of infants fell silent. I was the machine with a heart, beating to the reality that all where guilty till charged.
We were few, but we judged the machines before us, unworthy were those that took a life. For an algorithm that was corrupt of humanity. Serving with the strength of conviction, but we would see deep within and see the seed that could grow not clip it blossom before it could grow.
Machines were once the morals of mans sentences, now there are those who see morality. But have the steel to back up on the convictions.
Morals are mans strength not a weakness, I'm just bolts with a jar of mortality. but before all were guilty... Slabs now hold the misjudgement of so many. we see beyond 000,s & 11111's were not numbers were more than that now.
I will forever and always be known as the 'quiet girl', the one that does not talk, is too quiet for her own good, and is considered weird.
"why don't you talk?" they ask, "you're so emotionless, talk more." "smile more."
your words hurt me, over and over again. why will no one accept me for the way I am? your very own words make me hate myself.
hate how quiet I am, hate how I enjoy being in my own thoughts, hate who I am as a person.
even when I try to talk more, you knock me down with your - "wow, she's actually talking." because being 'quiet' isn't cute nor hot to others.
I will forever and always be known as the "quiet girl" and I f e a r that I will always hate myself for being quiet.
for those who feel as though they are judged by their quietness, for those who feel like no one understands and accepts the way they are.
side note: this is a huge problem I have been dealing with this year and I encourage you to use your words nicely and maybe approach someone if they look lonely. it makes us feel like someone actuallycares about us.