Disarmed

Words 
are our weapons,
Thoughts
are our arsenal,
and we
can never
be disarmed.

39/365

A version of this poem first appeared on Bluesky. Whispered into the acoustic sensors of the sleeping dreaming android, it prompted the electric sheep to generate one more tomorrow…

The AI rendered this poem as an intense individual with glowing eyes, a gas mask, and some kind of back-mounted weapon looking out toward the viewer.