Sci Fi Story

Extra hand in a desolate land
useless, frozen, hanging
Wasted days in a barren land
timless, pungent, draining
While others sit I'm forced to stand
March in the rear of a parade band
Plastic lining in an aluminum can.
waning.


bored, the days come and go, sun up and sun down...all is white and everything the same. Maybe I'll tell the story of my recurring dreams. That would take a while, and who knows maybe reach the scale of mtpspur's epic...
oh well... cheers
B