Robotics

The robot had a brain

And what an awesome brain it was

But though it could do maths

It was uncomfortable because

It didn’t have a heart

It couldn’t cry, it couldn’t laugh

Immitation; simulation:

Not real by half.

It wondered about those

That wore their hearts just as a glove

What was sorrow? What was peace?

What was friendship? What was love?

Mathmatics couldn’t tell it,

Physics but a trace.

Philosophy it perceived

From a cold, unfeeling place.

At least I have a brain, it thought

I know it’s all I got,

But I’m millions of times faster

Then that unproductive lot.

The purpose of life is to

PRODUCE PRODUCE PRODUCE

Humanity can stew

In their caring hearty juice.

© Ben Cotton

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