She lays on your bed.
We walk in,
and she stares at us with those empty eyes.
We took out
her microchip,
and she can't feel
-not that she could
to
begin
with.
Throws chemicals in our faces.
Escapes out the window.
She's gone.
Out of our lives,
as we hunch over
and wash out our eyes.
They're burning,
but we are free.
Finally,
it's just you and me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem