Life ticks away his final hour,
this man that stands in flame.
Betrayed by master, left alone,
on his shoulders rests his shame.
A man of brass, polished silver
and plastic melts away,
tortured by the humid weather,
and beaten night and day.
His casing's cracked and needs repair,
his gears are warped, un-oiled.
His hinges groan, are licked by flames,
alone, his fluids boil.
Aged by time, neglect, and rain,
he awaits his final order.
His master works with crafty hands
on the burning creature's brother.
Obsolete! That's what they say,
the metal man's unsalvaged.
Still loyal to his master's hand,
he computers one final message.
"To my master, my greatest friend,
not long ago you loved me.
I may be old, but I work just fine.
I still just want to please thee."
The master smirks and turns his back,
"Your programming's slow, outdated."
And so a man of hidden gold;
once loved -- he dies hated.
2011
H