Robots

I hate robots
Not those machines I have bought
Not those electronic things

I hate robots
The process of making them
The final result

Running together
A uniform line
Writing together
Pens moving at the same time

The robots here are not machines
Machines are more unique
Yet here they are, so mechanical

Right arm up
Left arm down
Hand over heart
Move

The kids in the country side,
Who play all day,
Those are the first to go

Robots teach them
Robots build them
Repeating what they know

At first they know to play
In their own individual way
Where did that go?
With everything they used to know?

Some sense trouble
They try to escape the robot bubble
Then they’re trapped until it’s finished
As a robot, they are diminished