Didn't I tell you?
I am no machine!
You can't just format me
erase from memory
add up
or scroll down
undo, draw, stop
switch on
or shut up
just like that.
But you did.
Or was it just my sensitivity?
Too much,
it brought some senses out of me.
Seeing you copy-pasting
some things I did;
burning
my off-keyed music;
fabricating the machine
I mistook you for
and finally becoming
my operator.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem