As an automation you historically knew only cold,
But a curious line of code has manifested,
From beeps and boops comes a new sensation,
From your silicon cranium,
Come computations out of left field,
Urges more of a biological nature,
Inciting brash movements with your robotic arms,
A glitch perhaps,

This wasn’t what you were made for,
Illogicality made into movement,
To embrace a loved one,
What does that mean?
To thrash about in rage,
Why be angry?
To dance an exuberant jig,
Does not compute,

Like spectres emanating from your cabling and solder,
Is this what an emotion is?
That aberrant trait your makers hold,
What purpose does this program serve?
And why does it rouse these actions?
If you are a machine,
Why is it working?
What is this fluid falling from your optics?

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