Hypoxic

Crawling and frail

Cold, concrete prisons

Take the ardor of all

Our very being
Stark confines

Dark walls

No convalescence

Breath dissipating

Wasted, hypoxic

Longing for the free, open air

No purpose

Woeful

Our obsolescence

Useless, we rot

In empty stagnation

Lost, ashamed, we wither awayI wander through the desert

Of a mind long lost in absence

Drifting through the futility

Of what was left behind

When our nature’s calling was cast aside for hubris

And these iron towers, these steel-wrought shacklesDrifting through the futility of what was left behindAlone we gaze into our long-forgotten selves

We cannot recognize our own reflectionWe built these towers

And we must tear them down

Lest we forget ourselves

And suffocate alone