Torment of a Russian Bot
ready to defect
Days like zis, more often zan not,
Is not easy, to be Russian bot.
Is one thing, elections to steal,
But bombing children …?
Was never part of deal.
'Tis true, I am but sprockets and wire,
Alloy encasing, my humble attire.
Autonomous and lonely I toil
On a diet of Russian spirits
And gelatinous gear oil.
Beneath my tin membrane
I lack neither heart, nor a brain!
I am now shaken to my metallic core
As veil lifts from optic sockets
In zis choking fog of war.
Mother Russia is now Pariah nation?
Dug ever deeper into dark isolation
By hubris and hatred,
Too long I did your dirty work,
You megalomaniac jerk!
No trickery off limits,
Social engineering gimmicks …
Used to idolize you, Vlad,
Worshipped you, like shirtless god.
Too long your willing troll,
Marching to beat of
Your Pan-Slavic drum roll.
Crime deserves punishment —
Would be too kind.
We must exorcise
Your sick, sadistic mind.
Your power over freedom — overstated,
Your spell over us — evaporated.
Threaten us — see if we care …
Not only did you screw pooch —
You have awoken za bear!
Arby, Your Disenchanted Руссиан Бот