Project: Inkwell Poets Society

the constant machine drum

relentless screaming for a need to be seen

falling to cotton-clouded ears

 

Why should they hide their intentions?

Nobody’s left to hear it

So many minds, none ever used

 

Fluff dispersed to the wind, evaporating

The air dry, sky empty, as if you were

invisible.

 

but invisibility is a dull ache, in contrast

to the sharp sting of ignorance

to be seen and heard, but never listened to or acknowledged

 

Where do I have left to go?

 

After the nothing of the past

A century’s worth of adventures

 

A lifetime’s worth of life

Simply trying to fit all into

A singular person with only one heart

 

I don’t know where to go

Or what to be

 

which questioned me for many a year;

interrogative yet listlessly

 

a question hangs in the air

searching for an answer

proves fruitless for the time being

 

but sometimes it feels like I’m not even a human being

A human being… such a silly thing… what is even considered

human anymore

 

Human, man, machines, AI. How do we tell between life and machine?

Truth and artificial lies?

 

Where it is the point’s we can ask, are we the same?

Enhanced, but no soul? Mediocre but organic

 

Can I just end the poem here?