The ever constant beep that seems to have no cease, <br />disturbs a man of his rest in his sterile sheets, <br />blood shot eyes with no remorse stare at cemented walls, <br />white on white and into the night, the beep continues down the halls, <br />but the beep is now apart of him, the two, one in the same, <br />and always seems to copy him, as if it were a game, <br />some days the beep grows dominant, <br />some days the beep grows bleak, <br />some days the man grows confident, <br />some days the man grows weak, <br />this neverending droning pattern has become a normality in his life, <br />for with every single beep that beeps, he is reminded to still be alive, <br />this beep is now borderline obsession, his reality in a blur, <br />as if he sees the world through a light that is now obscurred, <br />those with religious mindsets, warn him to keep his faith, <br />while his food comes cold, and his food comes old, each night on his dinner plate, <br />but as a patient he has grown patient, <br />each day, a new perscription, <br />and with each pill he swallows at will, <br />that beep blares, as a soundtrack to his existence, <br />time has passed and friends have massed to the memories of their fallen friend, <br />and the beep that disturbed the man from his rest in sterile sheets has finally met its end.<br /><br />Stephen Mateus<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-man-and-the-beep/
