Luke, I am your…
I sit in this cage
with rusting bars
shaped from my age.
by now crippled hands.
The key was molded from my heart,
For perhaps they knew,
it undoubtedly would lock.
for the hope of better days,
So watch me sit
as the years spin by,
and the moon adverts her eyes,
From the lonely
to the lovers.
and as the iron rots
and the golden clouds rise off my canvas
I hope that I too,
have not decayed,
