I talked with 516 one day
To see what it might have to say
To learn about it even more
I asked it “Are you not machine?
What makes you stop and intervene
From deep within inside your core?”
It rumbled and tried to come near
And stopped when I stepped back in fear
I felt bad, for I knew better
Its chassis covered in long vines
And flowers colored like fine wines
Almost like beautiful fetters
But then this time, I stepped forward
And walked with my shy, small steps toward
The giant construct made for war
Now, it lies content in these woods
Sheltering underneath its hoods
Tiny lives, here by the lake's shore
I understand now why it chose
To stay a weapon and oppose
The nature of its existence
If it crumbled, how would what's left
Be used again, maybe for death?
That would counter its resistance
To keep one less weapon out of
Our hands, call back the peaceful dove
Once more to this horrid wasteland
Barren not of life nor living
But virtue of the forgiving
Ability to understand
