To Feel It Decay Poem by Stumpy Carlos

It stopped.
It stopped.
I guess I knew it would.
It had to at some point.
It worked so hard.
Overtime, and all alone.
It stopped.
It stopped.
I’m not sure what to do.
I know I need to restart it.
But is that what’s best?
Would I just bring it pain?

I found, there’s a hole.
I didn’t look long.
If only it wasn’t so.
I know it would still work.
I’m glad it can’t scream.
I know it would be shrill.
It’s the saddest of stories.
The most common of stories.

They always stop.
They have to, you see.
For without their halt.
Other things be damned.
Forced to stop.
A dangerous stop.
They always stop.
But not like this.

Could I reboot this old friend?
Could I work it once more?
Or would I have to worry.
I’d see it stopped again.
It stopped.
It stopped.
Please don’t let it stay.
I can’t stand to see it.
To feel it.
Decay.