Do not ask me what makes me tick
I am not a clock
My hands move in scribbles across this page
not circles around my face.
If you cut me open
I will bleed and you will find
veins and bones and pain
not gears and levers.
My mind is not a logic circuit
but an infinite universe in a finite space.
I look into my mind and I’m afraid I’ll get lost
How can I be ordered with a mind of chaos?
Sometimes this dust speck wants to forget, to assure himself of his importance. But the stars are too beautiful to ignore and they are reminders that I am but dust.
And I might be dust. But I am a beautiful and elegant and sentient dust particle.
And I demand to know what I’ve been put here for
Breathe in. Such a rush.
That’s called passion, I love life so much
There’s a reason my mind wakes me up each day
A reason my heart continues to beat.
The reason we are alive is so that we can live, but what living is is for you to decide.
I do things, not because they make sense, but because I need to.
I need to hope, to fear, to breathe, to dread, to love, to live.
Because there are seven billion robots on this planet and