The Past Perspective Poem by Signature Black

I awoke today in a strange place
A place that is not my home
A place that’s full of foreign things
I guess I’m here alone

Here machines are everywhere
In every house and store
So many machines in this place
I wonder what they are for

One machine contains the world
That people use no end
All this knowledge at my palm
I’ll face book an old friend

Yet still machines are here to find
How can so many remain
When I get home I’m on my own
The motion box will entertain

But soon this gets weary
Like sitting water upon the rock
But then I hear some music blare
From this pocket jukebox

I venture far from home
I wander way of course
I need to gain control
Of this powerful steel horse

Now I must move swiftly
Through many a mechanical beast
I fear that if I stop
On me it will be they feast

As I return to slumber
And the indoor sun does set
The room heats up like fire
But I see no flames as yet

I spent today in a strange place
A place that is not my home
A place full of mechanical things
I am not here alone