How It Will End
You will become old
Older than the wild
Older than dull cutlery
Someone will feed you with a spoon
You will eat the spoon and ask for another
Tubes and wires will hold you together
Nurses will come in the night
Roll you from room to room for tests
On beds with rotating wheels
It is for the best so rest
They will come with white sheets
With cutting machines and drills
With smiles behind dark masks
Stitches can only hold on so long
Is there oil or a cure for the cold in there?
Words mumble through saliva
Slip from the tongue in a dribble
Anesthesia soothes the soul
No one listens to old people
Is there gold in there?
Wrinkles build highways on faces
Take on a life of their own on the elderly
Stretch for miles over peaks and valleys
To the valley of death for what cause
Doctors operate for a profit
To find what's inside worth saving
How it will end is not for us to say
There must be something left in the pockets
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