My robotic afterlife was tainted with rejection. 
I'd gaze at my reflection and see rust. 
Let's form a club for all the clones that never made it. 
Techno lepers, cyber chumps, 
prosthetic paupers plunging pliers in your pocket... 
And if I dance when you are feeling bored... 
And if I serve you when you're lazy, 
lying limp across the floor, 
will you inject a little joy into my stick? 
Will you respect me in the morning?