Future invalids will be caught before death.
They’ll bolt them tight unto their beds
and strap the head harness on
with the elbow-length ultra-sensitive gloves,
sitting straight up on honeycombed gel mattresses,
wrapped in tissue-thin bathrobes.
Even with their minds almost gone,
they could visit their past,
reliving their glory days
as they lie back in virtual grassy meadows,
the golden light peeking through the thin blades,
puffs of dandelion smoke blowing through.
But she’s not there now, your beautiful girl
you once loved splendor on the grass;
she never believed in virtual reality
and all the experiments the scientists did to you,
so they built a similar model to void any loneliness—
And the children are here,
meeting, fighting and loving others
in another world,
traveling millions of miles without moving,
forgetting the real world entirely.