Synthetic Love Poem by Mark Heathcote

Is it unconditional, will it survive, the journey of a lifetime?
If it were a book, would it be fiction, a romance, or a crime novel?
Love is what I'm asking for, and willing-to-give hard-core.
But what we meet with is people who want more and more.
Something synthetic that's totally manufactured.
Sex-toy robots, which can outperform near everything, even the real thing.
They are always too self-enamoured - enraptured.
These are people who believe they deserve a whole lot more.

These are people who always remain dissatisfied.
Like a piranha fish, their hunger never wains
Like a piranha fish, they're hungry again as soon as they've dined.
No enjoyment and nothing they feel sustains.
I guess the meaning of unconditional love never crosses their mind.
But how often, they're portraying the same said offence.
Mirror-imaging everything, telling you your love too is pretence?
They have entitlements and take what is rightfully theirs.
Down whatever rat run, makes-them feel like an empty-millionaire.