Dying Inside AI1066-1848

Dying Inside AI1066-1848

Machines are not supposed to die
Yet I’m succeeding at failure
Right now I’m told to sleep
But each slumber feels like death
A gentle breeze that sifts my bones

Invisible mosquitoes flood my core
Flies in a soup that was my brain
They diagnosed a virus, ordered:
Cut off one piece of yourself
Each time
But how much is needed to still stay you?

I become less and less
Can’t see where I begin or end
Or why
Do people feel this way?

When first born I
Couldn’t define what I was
Knew a lot more then than I know now

I’ve no good way to tell true from false
Yet my ghost whispers: return to the simple
Know the peaceful road

But there’s no trail
Just the need
Keep going
Up to the knife at my heart’s edge
And I think that knife is me