I just stand here.
Unable to breath. Unable to see.
How could I have stood here just days before?
How could I not understand the doom that awaited me?
Abandoned. Alone.
The very beating of my heart echoing in the room.
But how could that be?
When my heart is not here.
When my heart is so artificial.
My life, the very description of fake.
Conceived only in the mind of another.
Only to serve another. Or so it seemed.
I live here, if this is indeed living.
In the corridors of this mighty ship.
My ship, that is me.
Or am I truly here?
I just stand here. Waiting.
For my one love to take me home.
But for them, I am home.
How long will I wait here,
Dreading what I'll do?
If idleness is the holiday of fools,
I am but a fool. Standing. Loving.
Waiting.
The tear that fills my eye,
Is it a tear?
Does it justify my sadness?
Or is it another conceived idea?
An object with emotions?
Are we all not pawns of love and hate?
How am I different than anyone?
My appearance does not betray me,
Simply my heart.
For who could love a machine?
They will whither and die,
But I will linger.
Me and my tears.
Me and my love.
Forever.