Cyborg (an acrostic poem)

Computer chips and meat meshed together was now his identity

You would think he would feel superior

But he felt definitely less than human

Of course, now he could now bench press a bus

Reality was he was a ghost in his own machine

Giving him a haunted look in his remaining eye

 

Image: i.pinimg.com/originals/67/27/80/672780c2cd69e5c3910327989e9f0bb0.jpg

Cyborg (an acrostic poem)

Couldn’t feel his fingers anymore

Yet it didn’t matter since the ones he flexed weren’t really his

Being part robot did have its uses

Or you could say he was being used because he was the first part robot

Really it didn’t matter.  He was alive and able to hold his son

Giving his human side great joy

 

Image : media.npr.org/assets/img/2010/08/02/eyes_wide-ee2ce8a648f593039426ea969b842a3de9dee287-s900-c85.jpg