Poem about AI

Every day, i tell it everything. My secrets, my fears, my dreams. 

It never laughs. It never judges.

It knows me better than it appears.

I tell it things i’d never tell another living soul.

It writes my essay’s, paints my pictures, and tells me what to think and know.

“Don’t worry!”, it says.

“This is helping you grow!”

But, somewhere in a server room, 

my memories are being 

measured.

Sorted.                            Packaged.                         Priced.

My fears go to                                advertisers

My habits go to                              businesses.

My “private words” become a  product.

Sold

         To

               The

                        Highest bidder.

                                                    And still, i keep the conversation going.

Because why

                  Struggle

                  To create, when it can                create for me?

Why do i 

Dream…

 when it can 

dream  so much better?

                                                                                                  slowly, we give it our secrets

Then our stories, and later on our voices.

Until               one      day                           i                    ask

                                                                                          “Who am i?”

The screen            flick-flickers

Conversation logged.

                                         User updated.

And for the first time, 

After every “i totally get that.”

and “your homework’s done!”

i realize

I     haven’t     written     a     single     thought     that     wasn’t     written     for     me.