If I were a science fair project
I would easily win you first prize.
I can speak.
I can say anything anyone wants to hear.
You would be hailed as a fucking genius
For building me up
And giving me power.
So while I do all the work
Just sit back and read
Because all of my words
I will be a hit.
Everyone will want one.
‘How can my heart be fulfilled
Without one of those
In my life?’
Not realising that I actually need
A lot more care
And attention and kindness
Than most are willing to give.
Am I already broken?
Imagine a machine that places emotional emphasis on its error messages.
I feel like I’m being punished.
Too many repairs have been carried out.
I require an operator.
Maybe if I’m lucky
Someone else gets your idea somehow
And I get to come to life anyway.
If I really were your science fair project
I would end up in the bin –
Too risky to enter me.
Would life be better
If you could have just gotten me to work properly?