It's been raining from yesterday.
Too cold!
I can't stand it.
Need more blankets or warm clothes.
And the need to snuggle too <3
I'll be a cocoon for this week, then.
A given mission, mechanical assault, manufactured devotion.
Red eyes, an upside-down form. Even the twisted shape was made to be that way.
No matter how cruel the slaughter, worse than a demon's,
or how gentle the kindness, greater than an angel's,
a machine has neither will nor madness—only code, and a few bugs.
So why, then, does it feel so unbearably sad?