I’m a Machine

I’m a Monster, I’m a Machine.

Do I absorb the souls of the animals whose flesh I feast upon daily?

Do I suffer for what I made them suffer?

Do they drag me down for the horror they endured so bravely?

They were all victims, now I am another.

 I tell them I’m but a factory and they are my fossil fuel.

Their response tells me they’re not amused.

When I chew their flesh, I know I’m being cruel.

But still they hurt me, they don’t cease to abuse.

I’m on your side, why can’t you see?

This wasn’t my choice, I’m not the enemy!

You don’t have to fight me so relentlessly!

You don’t have to push me so forcefully!

You make me sleep so nervously!

Why aren’t you willing to show me some courtesy?

We can live united and ultimately,

We can be happy, we can be free!

At least… in theory.

I wish it were as easy.

I am almost too aware of the fact that what I consider to be ‘me’ isn’t me at all. I eat the dead and I mould them around my skeleton. This then begs the question, “What am I?”.

I’m not a material, I’m not a thing. What makes me up isn’t what I am. My brain is a specific configuration of atoms and ions. But if you built me in a lab, that thing wouldn’t be me. I am me.

So I am a just thought, a literal piece of imagination. I’m a small thought on a big rock in an even bigger universe. I wonder does the rock have thoughts. I wonder does the universe have thoughts. I wonder what is a thought. I wonder if I even exist.

Some more thoughts things that go through my mind here, not perfectly articulated admittedly but whatever, I can just say it gives the piece some more charm and some more character.

[P.S. The drawing is a more optimistic revision of R3T31D’s version]