He'd been a person, once. Granted, not a very good person, but 'good' was such a subjective term, and the universe hadn't been particularly 'good' to him in the first place, and he'd seen no cause to give what had not been given. But at least he'd been somebody.
That had changed once he met them.
They were very good at what they did, Lockdown had to give them that. He'd always considered himself difficult to deceive, but these so-called creators of theirs had taken him in and they had told him things…had shown him things…things he would never forget and never un-see for as long as his spark pulsed. They had convinced him. Thoroughly. And then they had twisted his perception around until it matched theirs so completely that he had forgotten that he had ever had an opinion or thoughts that were unique to him. He'd been many places before he met them, and he had thought he'd known the universe and his place in it.
He had been so wrong. He still sometimes shook his helm at his own naivety. And then he would scoff at everyone else's.
Because they thought they were somebody as well. They thought that their opinions, their thoughts and their actions, were unique and personal, the same way he had. They were wrong. They hadn't been created to be unique. They had been created to do what they were told.
Just like him.
They would see and understand that, one day. One day, possibly soon. It was coming closer, he knew that much, even if he couldn't say when exactly it would be. They would come. They would have back what was theirs; their creations. Nothing would stop them, not even Optimus Prime. And then all would know what their place and their purpose was, as he did. Even Optimus Prime would know what it is to be the living lifeless, like he was.
They would be slaves again, as they were always meant to be. Just like him.
(Lockdown is a very scary muse, fyi O.o)