Syntheticly Me

Sometimes I feel unnatural,
Stuck in some robotic phase.
I'm programmed to act and feel,
In hollow, rhythmic ways.

There's an artificial smile,
On my artificial face,
While my imitation heart,
Beats at an automatic pace.

These manufactured tears I shed,
Are perfect in design.
And even though I do not sleep,
I will, at night, recline.

I suppose my existance should be sad,
But I know nothing more.
And as I continue on, so pointless,
I feel nothing in my core.