Overcome Failure (poem)

Hold back harm, as we link arms, feed me light, and stay in sight. We're in danger, I'll make mistakes, don't push anger, and we won't break. Curves and curls, loops and rails: dusty paths and hidden trails. Keep me aloft, climb new heights. Stay warm and soft to comfort frights. Moving forward, I’ll have to roam, but with you on board, I’m not alone. I might slip, and even trip, skin might rip, blood drip drip drip. But as long as I have you to call, then I know you’re there to catch my fall. Soon we’ll have a perfect lullaby, with clear chords just ringing by. We’ll feel the marriage of a robot and a harp, eclipsing blindness, hear past the dark.

Chapter 2: Christoic (poem)

I'm weary, but I'm a fighter. Outlook's dreary, wishes brighter. My story wasn't so bad, but my demeanor's telling, it isn't glad. I was only seven, just a boy in church prayers heaven. My parents' bodies kept me alive, everyone suffered, everyone else died. Stained glass windows yellowed with noxious fumes, the altar like a hearthstone of fiery plumes. Gasoline, dynamite, explosions, and chaos. Loss upon loss upon loss upon loss. They stifled the encroaching fire, suffocated and shielded with parental ire. Jenny's eyes blocked out when dad huddled over my chest, grandpa's oxygen mask cradled by mom's breast.  Chaotic disorder, destruction, unrest. Desperation, crumbling walls, barred doors, screaming, melting, scathing, wailing. Silence. Cold.

I'm scarred, burnt, and walk with a limp. An orphan with emphysema heckled as "wimp". That demon's out there, I know who he is. I neither desire revenge, nor hope for justice, prevention is all I hope to accomplish. There's destruction in his wake, murder paves his path. I'm going to execute him, much is at stake if he unleashes his wrath.

Nibbler Supreme (poem)

You don't need to be told whose king,
see me on any one of my thrones.
My jumps, so high, and pounces, perfect,
vindicate how many humans I own.

My subjects work and toil daily,
as I lounge, laze, luxuriate, and play.
They clean me, groom me, kiss me, and feed me.
Chicken, beef, and fish... among other gourmet.

If I choose to demand it,
then they'll begin entertainment.
I'll show domination, rubbing their calves.
Then frolic with pleasure, or maybe just feign it.

Such kindness is undeserved,
these beings must constantly be trained.
They are okay at massages.
Keep me relaxed, and leave me unstrained.

Occasionally, I'll catch them a gift.
Maybe a spider or even a rat.
After all, they get to handle my litter.
I'm such a philanthropic, your excellence, your cat.