Could any bland automaton
effectively expound upon
expressions of humanity
without the code to spur it on?
As CPUs are brusquely built
who defines remorse or guilt,
the boundaries of sanity,
when simulated tears are spilt?
Emotions set our race apart
they churn in ways you cannot chart
but someday our profanity
may spawn a breed devoid of heart,
compelling art and steamy sex
despite mechanics so complex
they emulate our vanity
with infinitely tighter specs.
Are You Reading Me?
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