Where the last ***** died we're not quite sure
but sailors reported one just off shore
floating in a bathtub of brine
the batteries died but it still works fine
manual labour equal rights
beating yourself up for delight
selfish pleasures hidden treasures
hand in hand in equal measure
some have suggested a museum
as their last resting place
so everybody can see them
where sailors don't give chase
stuffed and mounted how ironic
a virtual knickknackatory
how we merged with the bionic
each one telling its own story
A.I. at its lowest function
numbing pain through pleasures gain
I heard the newer models had suction
but all in all, it's just the same.
Someone decided to spam my inbox with ***** pictures when I confronted them about it they told me to go write a poem about it so here it is...
