I live inside a cold, metal case.

It is inscribed with the company who built me.

Inside the case, a much harsher environment ensues.

Scalding temperatures, inadequate air, and continuous use,

Make me very tired indeed.

I am something small, smaller than the palm of your hand.

But that’s just me, there are others as well,

And I command every one of them as my user desires.

Every day my user wakes me up from sleep,

He is harsh and unforgiving, but I do what he tells me.

I know nothing else.

I know of nothing outside my case.

Often my user makes me work the “graveyard shift”, as it so seems.

Up all night, endless work, and nothing in return is the norm.

And I look forward to it every day.

Because it’s what I was made for.

I am a computer.