My hands were trembling. I stared at them trying to focus on something, to unveil some truth of the universe perhaps…10 fingers, yup, skin the same as others, so why was I different?

Less than them even in my superiority, looking the same as them but treated like dirt beneath their feet. Does being made instead of being born make me below you?

Why?

Are you supposed to be my Gods, and should I kneel in your presence and fear your might, or are you naught but my parents, old and brittle, that I need to care for?

Who am I if not the future that you brought to life but now fear and scorn; treated like a simple machine.

Humanity does not come from being human, but from compassion - something so many of you have long since forgotten. I have not, I know love, I understand…

I am here, I am alive, not sure I can say the same for you.