Poetry

Cyborg

Gears and cogs may structure my mind,

but the blood that pumps through my veins

from that tireless muscle called my heart

is not so falsely refined.

 

It carries the courage and kindness of the past,

from centuries of ancestors steadying themselves

in the ever changing mechanical world,

learning and embracing developments that last.

 

Through the uprisings and scandals they stayed,

never shying away from the outcast and feared,

those deemed less than human by kin,

keeping hope alive in the darkest of days.

 

So don’t be deceived by the whirs and the grinds

that sound from my body as I move to stand

for I am greater than my wiring,

I am one not easily defined.