This is written from the point of view of a robot who has never seen or known the outside world, who only knows of man-made things. He's never seen animals, water or plants, and this is the story of the morning he decides to open the door and walk out.
The roof was a strange colour, stretching far as the mind’s eye
The flooring was scratchy, and had been splashed with green dye
The furniture was moving, with fashioned ear and snout
This world was a Wonderland, but not one I knew about
Dimmed lamps were hung with patchy coloured shrouds
Antennae stuck to spiky, zipper-like crowds
Like clear plastic being waved was a surface nearby
Underneath, little wraiths, doorstops unable to apply
As I walked, things stuck to my feet
Like shattered glass, but not nearly as neat
Then there were harder things, like a paper weight
But they weren’t as appealing, and easier to hate
Something came down, like a massive fluffy shower
It growled a huge growl, and snapped at me with power
I stumbled backwards, clutching my jacket closer
I hated this world, and the person who chose her
I slammed my door shut and ran to my bed
The outside world is scary; I’ll keep this one instead
I’d lasted all my life serving with tin hand and feet
My first session outside, and already defeat
~Durrs
