Distinctly Flawless
Hexagonal eyes,
both elaborate grids,
stare into the ever-growing,
over-powering,
abyss.
The world outside your shell
is pure fiction.
Don't judge,
don't stare,
don't think:
Pure mechanics.
Your maker made you
to feel no misery
so discretely flawless,
but consequently apprehensive.
You hide your innermost fantasies,
in the furthest corners you can muster.
And you feel ashamed.
You can't communicate within
or out,
with neither another of your nature
or with your complex mind.
So you linger some more,
and wonder what it's like
to be human.
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