So people forget this thing exists. I'm back from concert night, ate Korean honey seaweed snacks when ppl were drinking beer rofl.
Had interesting chats with couple of people, my phone is done, it's microphone shattered unfortunately.
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?