TECHNO PINOCCHIO


He spent so much time
With the machine
That his fingers had grown to the keys

His brain had turned into a hard drive
And his heart had surpassed
the extended
warrantee

And she used to visit
On Thursday nights
To see if she could grant

His wish to become something real
To upgrade him from a
mechanical
sycophant

He didn't believe
that a thing was real
unless it had plastic
or saudered steel
And love was a thing of fairty tales
That couldn't be measured with charts or scales