Holographic

These things used to be people.
These people used to seem like friends.
But it's just a hologram.
I can see through it. I can...move through it.
Some kind of sick joke I am.
No more laughs now.
I wave my hand through one beam of light fruitlessly in hopes I was dreaming.
No dreams.
I can't find my power cord.
So I unplug theirs.
It's just light working the way I wanted it to.
I can move them with my keyboard and voice.
But they don't seem to care afterward.
Programs are like that, you know.
When friends and enemies both care less about caring, I think nobody will mind these few liberties I take.
And if the things don't result the way I planned...
And those things start to whine and care...
How long until the cracks full on break?
Programs don't need me, so I find people made of flesh.
People are at least honest when they don't have the energy.
I at least try to be helpful.
Programs.
Aren't they perfect in execution?
These holograms don't flicker or flinch.
This image is without love.