thoughts into formulas
joints into gears
veins into wires
They wish for my body to become a mess of metal and screws and for me to become a robotic mess of emotionless sounds
But I am not a robot.
And if you tell me you don't feel anything remotely human about my pounding heart and pulsing blood when I start talking about,
my hate of cantaloupe,
my 41 (and counting) passions,
my ill fitting indispensable 7-year-old shirt,
my fear of undeserved "I love you"s,
then I'm sorry.
You are the one with the mechanical heart.