First thing I remember brings me 25 years back,nOvercast morning, the kind that almost looks fake,nFirst thing I saw was white walls, and bright light bulbs,nBlurry pictures and hands holding cans of paint,nThe image used to be clear, but years are never kind,nYour past is always playing present tricks on your mind,nMuffled noises slowly became voices,nHovering over my body watching god’s miracle happen,nLife shot through my limbs, nThey started asking me questions,nBut I obviously couldn’t answer with my comprehension,nBeing newborn status, nClasses wouldn’t start for a while,nI know I’m not the fastest thinker,nBut I was quickly mobile, nat an early age, My chores started, just like everyone else,nMy friends don’t speak much but at least they help,nWhen there is work to be done, one of three sons, I’ve always been special,nThe others got boring names, but my parents called me vessel,nMiddle name 1208 and I don’t complicate,nI keep busy and have no time to waste,nCareening with a social scene, or playing on sports teams, nBut I understand what they always mean,nWhen teens aren’t supervised, they’ll kill each other,nI know firsthand from always watching over my brothers,nBut tonight we celebrate the day that I was born,nEvery year I wait by the window and listen for the horn,nn3 hours late and usually I wouldn’t complain,nBut their absence today is more than just a little strange,nShould I be suspicious? my record is flawless,nI’ve watched them sleep while my hands cropped the harvest,nThis house is keeping secrets, and it’s got the worst timing,nSo I’ll force these walls to tell me where my family is hiding,nProviding light for my search, flipped the switch in the kitchen,nThe windows were open; something stirring caught my vision,nOn the table next to a phone number I’ve never seen,nScattered papers in a folder and a picture of me,nIt was a title of ownership from 1978,nFor a registered machine with the initials of my name,nAnd stapled to the title was a receipt for disposal,nWith today’s date on it, and signature from the owners,nThis can’t be right, I don’t understand what this means,nThese papers say this machine is me?nnI read all I could but most of the information was worthless,nExcept, after 25 years your machine is out of service,nLights in the driveway someone is at the door,nLet them come for me, there is nothing for me here anymore,nnI spent my whole life thinking I was human,nThey tricked me into thinking I was one of them,nSo the chores would be done, the laundry picked up,nThe house would be clean, I wanted self esteem,nI wanted respect in a race that was alien to me,nHow could I feel alive and just be machinerynI’m angry at what they’ve done; my family is my life,nThey’ve left me here by myself to sacrificed,nI’ll go to the roof and give them what they want,nIf I’m so robotic then the pain was never real,nJust a program to bind man’s ways to my flesh,nOnly after 25 years does it all made sense,nWhat kind of god leaves you tortured with free thought?nKeeps you alive for labor then recycles the spare parts,nThey can have these limbs; return them to my parents,nTell them vessel tried to find the truth under his skinnThree stories high, but one story over,nMetal hits the ground, brain smashes, closure,nnnever thought I was trapped, never needed escape,n