Fear


Old man,
What had become of you?
What of leathery hands,
Powerful legs,
Majestic smile,
and Noble manner?
Weak fingers,
Unsteady legs,
Tattered frown,
and Lethargic attitude
is all that remains.
All that is left is a shadow,
Of something that was once free.


Yet I fear you old man.
I fear your pills and machines.
I fear my own shadow.
I fear what I am to be.

Penned by my hand on the 10th of Valnuary, in the year 245 AF.