What have I become? Am I human or machine?
Maybe a machine is for some, but what I’ve seen
Is others designing my purpose in front of me
And slowly taking away my mind’s autonomy,
They tell me to keep quiet, be another number
In the system, punch in, punch out, together
Yet alone in an assembly line of faces and feet,
I pray everyday that this is not my day of defeat
Realizing that I am just as replaceable as a cogwheel
That what I hold dear, I have allowed them to steal,
Even though I and we are who they depend on to live
Still a paycheck’s worth of dignity is all they will give,
I do more and more to prove myself good enough
For if I break down, I will be throwaway, like stuff,
But I am not an object to possess, under control
I am not a tool that stops and goes as I am told
I feel, think, tire, sicken, smile, laugh, cry, hurt
And yet I am seen with the same contempt as dirt
Which gives life and life is what I also want for me
They would be more human too if that they could see.