/* Bad poetry warning */
Why is my bed not happy?
Why is my chair not sad?
Why isn’t a watch full of envy?
Why is my pen not mad?
Because they are inanimate objects?
At least that’s what science says so…
But I always hated that subject,
Trust it? or stick to what I know?
How is a brain any different,
to a bed or a pen or a chair?
They all came from atomic elements
As physical as the paper we tear.
So how on earth can it be
that I possess personality?
As I fall back on my bed
A scary thought swirls in my head;
I’m sad to say not a tear was shed.
I’m sad to say… This world is dead.
Alex Herlihy – 2009