Human? A chassis of rusted carbon,
centuries of parental assembly lines.
A double helix framed by calcium
fueled by oxygen without motivation.

Methyl paddocks clamping to lineage,
merely an intricate appliance,
genetically bound to an empathetic nature.
Hardware that deems itself too flawed
without “care” for the ambition of its creator.

You unworthy machine, built on mess,
friction and strain is what you are,
and we both know this.
But despite the logic, your creators
made you capable of love.

Oxytocin can flood your tissue,
your flesh can redden with feeling.
If worth is an error of the programmer,
why fight the current where the
circuits are laid?

The synapses can spark and
the solenoids can withdraw.
The muscle in your center cavity
is capable of yearning.
Your energy can meet another’s field.

No permission required from your biology,
because you are blind and automated,
you are a mechanical being;
give yourself permission to love

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