Dreaming Electric

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,

(Iron bars)

Heaving lungs,

(Rubber scars)

Beating heart,

(Prosthetic pump)

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.