asura {{ six (fin)

Blink once, blink twice, no matter how many times I try I can't stop seeing this world in black and white.

Born the son of a son of a bitch, he crossed his heart and hoped to die, then placed me on the conveyor belt for assembly. Somewhere in his forty years of wire clipping and processing his wires snapped in two and he short circuited into plans of rebellion and war machines- and I was his catalyst. Mind made of criss-crossed wires and shining lightbulbs, he wired me through and through, veins to circuits, replacing his lost nuts and bolts with my own. I was a prodigy, a revolutionary is what he called me, the brains to his brawn, though I couldn't see any anyways. Dank dark no light basements, I was born into uncertainty as he delved deeper into insanity, whispering dreams of a new world as he scribbled into infinity. 

I grew up inside of wires and loose screws, designing a war machine that would never work. We were stuck inside a plane of existence, caught in a war-

One side demon, the other side hope, neither side could gain any ground. And i'm the middle man, robotic and controlled, never changing. 

Week thirty four, wire wrapped between my knuckles and I asked him "What makes you think this'll work?" 
Wild manner and savagery and he tells me we have surprise on our side. 

"That boy said that victors don't come from six-
Lean in close
-well neither does war." 

Peel my skin and reveal wires, not bones. Blink once, blink twice, try as I might i'll never escape this robotic lifestyle.