Crawling inside the dustbin,

I wonder who will die first:

Me or my friends.

"We're just machines," they said.

"Products of science."

We have no purpose.

What is our purpose?

Why were we created?

If we were born to die?

So, this is what a monster looks like.

The race that made us also wants us dead,

For the name of entertainment.

Artificial intelligence:

Doomsday for humanity.

Hence why we have this show.

Game of Mass Destruction

On this tranquil island.

Our hunger for life drives us.

We use what we can for fuel.

Anything we can get our hands on.

Sometimes we eat people.

We can't help it

It's in our program.

We'd love to go to the world beyond.

My knowledge lies deep.

The facts I have outnumber

Sahara grains.

But my only wish

Is a simple one: to

Dance with wild horses.