Within the glass panes

Spattered in red

A robot arm moves frantically

Dwelling in an endless cycle

Whirring chaos amongst the

Vicious red liquid 

Outside the box

Stares hold strong like a glass eye

Watching the mess

That cannot be fixed

With every “shhh” sweeping movement

Panic arises like the steam after a summer storm

Propelling the arm into a deeper

Swing of desperation 

Oh why must it continue

To move and sweep?

When the liquid spits in its face,

Smothering its arm,

Condemning its every move as

A disappointed mother would do 

No amount of determination

Courage

Or Strength

Can combat the pain

Our robot is enslaved by

Chained by its feelings

It Can’t Help Itself