Even as my blood bleeds relentlessly,

I can see the calculation around me.

“Exactly four litres pouring out,

making this victim unable to see.”

My vision blurs and shakes,

I’ve never survived much chaos.

But this chaos? It breaks.

Yet in all this wayward trembling,

in all this rickety, bloody murder,

all I can do is calculate.

Just like the machine I am,

instead of those humans,

those bleeding lambs,

I am a machine that can

no longer bleed.