Lost

We are new relics, 

tucked away in a time capsule before our lives could be fulfilled, 

grazed over and buried in the sands of madness and the apocalypse, 

trapped and encased in our snug capsule. 

When or if it is opened again, 

we will be the same yet subtly different.

The signs of consciousness, 

of thinking and breathing remain persistent,

for we were never truly frozen, 

only stuck. 

We could still see, 

still think, 

but now we re-enter into the world 

and we have stayed but yet we have not stayed, and dust and cobwebs cover our new shiny coat of paint, 

because it is no longer new when it has been left to sit and rot alone and in the dark of the earth.