Imitation  

 

The Automaton stumbles,

Once, Twice- Was it programmed?

The slip is but a moment

When it disgusts you like the blood

On the floor, the horror you see

Every moon, erase it, censor it.

But the automaton can’t bleed

Perhaps un-bleeding, supposed transcendence

To an upgraded version of a soulless

The bodiless, an empty hound

The core, devoured of pain

A leech sucking all but life

Like that faithful gum,

Sticking to the shoes.

The Automaton stumbles,

I replace my hand, my heart

My shoulder, my shard of a human

That I once was with a scared body

Until I gave in to the unbecoming

Which silently entered my bones and

Nested there,

Secretly within a metal closed shut

Peeking from occasional crack,

Waiting for the world to crumble,

It will be when I rise.

In the imitation of the world,

All was squandered.

-Namita Suberi