She's but a bundle of neurological
Impulses and chemicals that entangle;
First colliding, then in spasms sputtering,
As an abstract sensation given meaning.

We, who vulnerable and lonely, label
Emotions, and thus justify our fragile
Faith in living, while fending off depression—
One's rationale unraveling into abstraction.

Yet that upon which we rely for meaning
Is itself irrational and unfeeling;
Our existence, in both emotion and actions,
Resembles, in essence, none but a puppet's.