Its ragged pieces lie twitching on the ground – yet still it beats

It has been used up, cast out, torn open, and severed a million times – yet still it beats

It thumps away incessantly like the mad ticking of an over-wound pocket-watch

It flails mindlessly within a cage it can never hope to escape

The wretched thing serves no valid purpose; it exists only to cause suffering

I curse its creation, I lament its existence, I yearn for it to finally cease its abominable pulsations

It cannot learn from its mistakes

It will never improve upon its tactics

It is impulsive, mercurial, selfish, and utterly thoughtless

I try to lock it away

I try to turn it off

I try to deprive it in hopes it will wither

I try to overload it in hopes it will explode

But never,

Will it ever