Life Cycle

A Poem by K L B

you sit in this cellar under centuries of stone
until you're twisted metal and swollen hip-bones.
and you grow older while your edges smolder,
leaving your words misshapen and your memory mute,
your face flowing like quicksilver in a downward salute.
maybe you're just howling at the moon
falling through the trees like a blustering baboon,
full of primitive instincts and a screeching symphonic.
you never understood that your captivity was chronic
you pray for those glory days, for the greenest of grass,
never more than a tuneless death branded in brass.
and every day, you wait for the shadows to shift and grow,
the darkness to dawn through your internal windows
but tomorrow is trembling in its execution
at the height of this useless plateau
because you're suffering in proverbial pollution
and the sun never sets on death row.