I can feel every tiny cell,
running through my veins,
that carries the anguish of not living
the gift of this life,
the gift to think,
the gift to be who I really Am,
as I sit in front of this portal towards the world
they call digital.
Am I still the same I,
who knows how to contemplate
the bits of pain
that are encoded in my head?
I condemn this dawn of artificiality
where there is a rise of self-confusions
caused by the misuse
of Artificial Intelligences.
It steels not mine alone, but the entire youth's
capability to feel and know.
I must not just feel the pain or joy,
I must also know the reason behind,
that I may exist as I am not as AI am.
AI Am not thinking
If I let this thing to decide and dictate me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem