River Walking 25/06/2036

Jun 25
1 min read

Prompted

My machine thinks for me,

so I gave it my eyes.

My brain was of little use to it,

outmoded and not worth replacing.

My hands it didn't need,

they were slower than thought.

My voice it had already,

learned in mimicry.

My machine lives for me,

and I have nowhere to be.

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