Mr. Robot.

by Louis Bertrand Shalako

c2010

All Rights Reserved

I, robot
Don’t have the capacity
To dream about tomorrow
But I never spell a word wrong
Fueled up, brains all loaded
With everything that’s passed
And I have no place to go
I can never die
As long as the batteries last

Here I come
Here I come
Here I come

I have never speculated
As to where I came from
Did I spring from the dust?
Was I created?
I’ve never cared. I’ve never asked.
Simply because it’s easier
In the Good Lord I trust

Here I come
Here I come
Here I come

Cryogenic heart, skin a polished silver
One thing I am glad of
For this I thank my builder
I can never rust.
And in my own self-assumptions;
I place my deepest trust
I, robot; am happy within myself.

Here I come
Here I come
Here I come…

Editor's Note;

This poem originally appeared in 'Twisted Tongue Magazine,' #16, UK.