How It Will End

The cost of being alive

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