Bulletproof – Reimagined

Although I don’t look normal, with eyeballs and skin, 

big bushy eyebrows, a lumpy old chin, 

stubby, short fingers, a ludicrous grin, 

hair which is boisterous, curly and thin, 

                          I’m actually a robot. 

Yes, I agree, it’s unusual to see 

someone looking so normal and sipping iced tea 

when they’re actually metal and battery-powered, 

someone whose circuit board’s never been showered. 

                          It’s hard being a robot. 

I look like a human but sound like a car 

which is rusty and old and has driven too far. 

My ironwork’s cumbersome, clunky and slow, 

and everyone hears me wherever I go – 

                           It’s loud being a robot. 

I want to be subtle, I want to fit in, 

but that cannot happen when, under my skin, 

there are motors and pistons and grippers and gears 

all put together by six engineers. 

                            It’s lonely being a Robot. 

Despite being built with a bulletproof shell 

(although I must say that I hide it quite well), 

inside I am squishy like jelly ice cream 

and when it is night-time, I nod off and dream 

                             of not being a robot.