once a glow in the eyes
turns into a socket needing grease
it squeaks it squeaks
an engraving gets rubbed smooth
so too the verbal history
once were forms to soothe
now lay crumbled in a mystery
it creaks it creaks
what was once left in peace
has now turned into compromise
as an entity loses it's individuality
it gets infected and and dies
it leaks it leaks
what once was a solid vessel
becomes porous, chipped, and cracked
fragile as a worn trestle
the ship now sacked

Penned by my hand on the 1st of Scarlatan, in the year 672 AF.