Sometimes I wish I were an android
My only worry to look troubled and pretty
Wondering if there were more to me than circuitry
Tangled wires and synthetic skin,
Obeying a creator’s every whim
And, what, be a surgeon? A maid? A mother, to children who have nothing left in the world?
I wonder, would I be content with the part that I played, or would my heart remain, rebellious in its strain, chasing dreams that always seem so very far away.
Disillusionment is a jealous game, one I try not to abide in,
How easy, then, would it be to forget any sin, comforting knowledge in the fact that it was all part of your program. Life as a joke. Possibly a gift. Depends on how you look at it.
Cracked rib cage,
All parts of me nothing but a lump of machinery. Imitating life.
And I don’t think I could ever really know, without searching in the depths below, whether or not I truly have a soul.
Today, though, today I will stay. I know I’ll find out. Either way.