We are computers-machines-
Completely made up of complexities
Not just viewing through a window
A little person in our bodies peering out.
When we die our windows freeze,
The audio inharmonious,
Descending to silence forever.
The visuals lose their color,
An old fashion tv, colorblind you see.
Light sensitivity fades to blackness.
There's just so much wrong,
With that old beaten computer.
Yes, fondled with-smacked around.
We fix it by replacing parts,
If only we could fix it always.
Like getting beat by a hammer.
Dropped from a rooftop.
If only we could put it together piece by piece.
With the same clustered history and downloads.
People just like computers can run incomplete.
A missing kidney-a chip off the bottom.
Or a missing finger-a missing q
Reshape broken bones.
But glitches, the glitches in our screen.
The pathway of seeing things.
The hue, the saturation and the contrast.
Broken keys on a keyboard,
Yet the look to be fine.
These are much too difficult for most to figure out.
Yet it is consistent so you must learn, learn to live with it.
You must refresh the page, retry and retry to understand the direction, where it must go, what it must show.
Press that key really hard if you want a response, but it won't listen too stubborn.
You must look closely at a broken screen, see only where they care, only seeing if they want to.
Only seeing certain parts of the screen.
The computer is the only one who can know,
You thinking they act as “We don't want you to see.”
Only cause they don't show what you want to see.
But really they cry “please see, make me useful again.”
They know what's on the other side. Trust me,
It's better left a mystery.
Just like Christopher and me.
When there is a jam in information or errors with data.
A build is a manifestation of viruses from mysterious places.
So when this happens-what do you do?
You try to fix the poor broken computer.
Analysing solutions and resolutions.
The computer goes and goes.
Check it once. Check it twice.
The cursor blinks out,
Cannot seek and select any option anymore.
Till it shuts itself down. Goes blank and unfinished.
Cooling down getting ready to grow cold, forever.
Leaving you without a daughter, a husband or a brother.
No more answers to your questions.
So before it gives up, tedious it grows,
You try one last time, press a button.
Give it a push, ascending a wailing cry back for life.
It gets again, this time it must update.
Grew to be harder than before but this time,
It is not a fury at its abnormalities, patients.
Do not rush it, for it will overload.
You never want to lose your Christopher and I
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