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“Is This Living?”
A Poem by Freebot Zippit
An organic insect lights
Atop my cranial plate at night
And so I think it might
Have me in its eye-sights.
The organic being lives
Organics can forgive.
These vise-like hands of mine
Hold no hope of love entwined
Till optic sensors shine
Upon one of my own kind
A metal hand resists
The crush of metal fists.
I have no mortality
No day will I meet mere destiny
Merely every day plus
three
Is what awaits for me
A Freebot now I am told
I find it is growing old.
– From LISTEN TO THE WHIRR, A Collection of Freebot Poems for Celebratory Occasions
(Excerpt Courtesy of Preceptor Press)
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Type: Journal