Past utility
It's time to dissemble.
One last large blink
And he would collapse dead,
His fragmented pieces
Moved for recycle
To beget a new one
No one welcomes,
Like death was un-mourned.
He could sense the lethal blow.
It was sometime coming,
The premonition of end
The lump in the throat,
But not equipped with tears,
The emotions couldn't outpour.
‘I was a fool', he thought
‘to have thought them my own'
‘live them in dreams'
‘toil so they can be happy'.
Now one among many,
He waits for execution
By the ones he thought his own
Though he couldn't otherwise,
It was built into him.
The anguished cries from his heart
Reverberate in the corridor
And the cries of the others
Melt and merge with his.
He wished he was not born a robot!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem