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  • Writer's picturetheplantnews
    • May 13, 2022
    • 1 min read

The Machine

Joshua J. Frederic

Contributor


I remember


a heavy cloud of lies


Roaming in the corridors

It reeked a sterile scent, yet unclear

Not old enough, not too young either

When a nurse whispered in my ear:

We must cover up, become deceiver

For no one should drear,

The Smell of The Reaper

____________________________________

I see

a fatigued hand

Hanging off the bed

Begging to be held | At once! Doctors Announce:


|


And Your mind that has been drained | The machine is failing!

Unaware of who nor where | The gears are crackling!

But You reach for love yet | The oil is saturated!

So apparently, | The tasks! Left undone!

some things we never forget. | The machine is failing!

Paralysed by fear

My first encounter with death

I wish I did

Now burdened with regret

I left

Your fatigued hand

Hanging off the bed

Begging to be held

_______________________________________

Saddened but Relieved

when finally,

at the end of the season

your century old mortal coil

Completed, a final revolution


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