“My Body is a Clock”: A Poem from the Perspective of AI

My body is a clock.

It ticks off-tune.

It stretches,

It creaks.

My body never stops.

It goes and goes.

And if I try to stuff it,

Still, it flows.

With all too much to say.

Though not the time of day.

(Which everyone already knows.)

My clock just goes and goes.

So, I sit still.

And I move fast.

With nothing but a tick,

Talking from my head.

My clock just goes and goes.

My clock stands wobbly to one side,

And then to yet another.

My clock strokes ten,

And, then, again,

It strokes a different number,

But sounds the same

When my chimes clang.

Desperate for you to hear me.

My clock is empty,

Except for shiny gears

Revolving all your fears.

And chiming out again.