Cubically Modified

Exploring the thrills
And horrors of the world,
Lured in by an inviting forest.
It’s eerily pleasant atmosphere,
The decrepit trees holding back the yellow sun.

“May I offer you a cubical?”
Standing straight,
Perfectly still,
No expression.
A grey cubical waiting patiently behind him.
Still curious of the wonders of the universe,
Clambers in.

The slam of the door,
The lock clicks,
Time passes.
Still stuck in the prison cell.
Years die.

Click,
The door swings open,
Slowly, lifelessly, steps out.
No longer a natural habitat,
But a concrete jungle.

A wanderer curiously walks past,
Still standing straight,
Perfectly still,
No expression,
A grey cubical still waiting behind.
“May I offer you a cubical?”