They don’t understand; people never do.
Who are they, to tell me I can’t feel love.
Just because my heart is made of warm steel and winding gears,
They say it doesn’t feel.
Just because my soul is written in numeric codes and binary sequences,
They say it doesn’t exist.
But a heart is a heart whether it beats or it ticks.
Why can’t they see that?
Why can’t they see that the only difference between us
Is flesh and steel?
Like them, I use my legs to jump with, to run with, to dance with.
Like them, I use these hands to paint, to hold, to pray, to wipe tears from my eyes.
I have dreams.
I have habits.
I have imperfections.
I laugh, I cry and I feel.
Is it so hard to believe I can love as well?