I will stand far away

I will witness and applaud

Watch as my very form decays

Crowding in on the scene

Toasting glasses as I squeal

There is nothing left, nothing real

I have been carried, dragged and pulled

Carted to this new place where I am alone

There is no guilt on your part

This was my accomplishment

I have created this crippled drone

Even as the lines of this poem take shape

I revel knowing that this corpse could have been atoned

Keep the laughter ringing and the drinkers drinking

This is a celebration. A cynical observance. A triumphant defeat.