Just like we have robots
Wired to act the way we want
Someone must have wired us
To act the way they want
Because we dont always do what’s right
We don’t always do what we want
We don’t always do what’s needed
We don’t always do as we wish
We let our subconscious
Tell us how to behave
How to act, how to walk
How to talk, how to live
Is subconscious a fancy word
For algorithms of our brains?
Is it a complex set of instructions
That we are not too smart to understand
Perhaps we are puppets
Controlled by a greater hand
Perhaps, maybe, just perhaps
We are robots ourselves

Hundreds and hundreds years from now
Two kids will stumble upon a toy
While running around in their backyard
While jumping, delighting in joy
They will take it to their parents
Their mother will shriek with fear
Their father will throw a stern look
Examining the wear and tear
He’ll say, “There has to be more
Of this from where it came.”
“But what could it be?” she’ll ask
“I don’t quite know its name.”
They will start digging the yard
Call upon their neighbours and friends
The whole city will then witness
Similar sightings and trends
They will all keep on digging
Find lots of parts and pieces
Assemble them in fine fashion
To form several masterpieces
But these machines will turn against them
Before they have time to understand
Why these bots were broken and buried
By their fathers beneath the land

Once there was a little bot
Who thought it could play a little trick
So it thought and thought and thought
Oh the bot was such a prick
Out to watch over the sheep
Feeling so lonely and bored
The bot screamed for help out loud
In the fields all the people poured
When it saw all the faces
It had then quite a laugh
The euphoria of this little trick
For the bot just wasn’t enough
So it repeated this trick again
Not just once or twice
The bot well played it everyday
Never getting tired of lies
So the people resolved one day
To knock the little bot’s head
And hire some kind of human form
To look at the sheep instead
So when the little bot cried — Wolf
They all gathered with sticks and stones
Rushed to beat it black and blue
Rushed forward to break its bones
It is not known what happened next
The village was left barren then
No sign of children or residents
No sign of sheep or men
Only the bot wanders the streets
Searching for some games and fun
He looks into the empty houses
He finds no sheep, no person

They
Electric giraffe leg slid gloomy

Are
Horse vapour knot by dozens

Spying
Different happy animals torch nightly

On
Keep maniac for treasure dignity

Us
Cough table upon river breathe

If
Feelings are a specific stimulus of brain
Such that it gives way to
Sometimes fear, sometimes bravery
Sometimes depression, sometimes elation
Sometimes greed, sometimes selflessness
Sometimes envy, sometimes hatred
Sometimes lust, sometimes love
Sometimes sorrow, sometimes happiness

Then
Will a device that hacks
Happiness algorithms in my brain
Always keep me happy
As long as it is running?
What kind of happiness will that be?
Knowing you’re being happy without being happy

Writing is not so easy
It takes up a lot of time
Especially when it’s a poem
With rules on meter and rhyme

If you happen to write one
After struggling a lot
You’re not sure who will read it
Will it be liked or not?

But if there was a robot
Who could analyse all great works
Create a similar poem
Top it with a smirk

What do you say about it?
If they take over art
Would it be a bunch of rhymes?
Or would it touch your heart?

What if I am hollow
No blood or brain in me
Everytime I bleed it’s just
A virtual reality?
What if I’m a program
Designed by some madmen
Doing as he wishes
Slave to his commands?
Am I really conscious?
Do I have a free will?
There are so many questions
But no answers still