"Is This Living?"
A Poem by Freebot Zippit

An organic insect lights
Atop my cranial plate at night
And so I think it might
Have me in its eye-sights.
The organic being lives
Organics can forgive.

These vise-like hands of mine
Hold no hope of love entwined
Till optic sensors shine
Upon one of my own kind
A metal hand resists
The crush of metal fists.

I have no mortality
No day will I meet mere destiny
Merely every day plus three
Is what awaits for me
A Freebot now I am told
I find it is growing old.

- From LISTEN TO THE WHIRR, A Collection of Freebot Poems for Celebratory Occasions
(Excerpt Courtesy of Preceptor Press)