Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
It is far enough away to not dream about it. However, I am locked in this box and insanity is setting in. Watching the days paint tainted ideas all over my prison. Hidden from humanity, I can only hope for a dream. It will never come back to me, no matter how hard I try. How may I help you sir? I am working on my customer service. This is my new home. Surrounded by thoughts and hard steel. Would you like a tour? Do you really have to go? Okay than. I am like a bull in a china shop. Crashing into the walls and causing destruction. Laughing all the while. No one deserves to see me. In a pile of broken glass and shelving. Red, blue, yellow, hatred. The box has a slit in it. I watch a curtain, floral print and torn, flow outside a window. The building is falling down. A testament to this area. It knows what freedom is. If these red bricks could tell their tale. It would put everyone to sleep. I will sleep tonight in my box. Wishing the world away, hoping for the axis to re-direct. Saving my screams for a different day. What will tomorrow bring? Hours, minutes, seconds. A countdown to the... Let's count backwards. If I threw an apple into a well, would it splash or float? The apple will never forget.
0
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 12:37 PM UTC
Inside My Box
It is far enough away to not dream about it. However, I am locked in this box and insanity is setting in. Watching the days paint tainted ideas all over my prison. Hidden from humanity, I can only hope for a dream. It will never come back to me, no matter how hard I try. How may I help you sir? I am working on my customer service. This is my new home. Surrounded by thoughts and hard steel. Would you like a tour? Do you really have to go? Okay than. I am like a bull in a china shop. Crashing into the walls and causing destruction. Laughing all the while. No one deserves to see me. In a pile of broken glass and shelving. Red, blue, yellow, hatred. The box has a slit in it. I watch a curtain, floral print and torn, flow outside a window. The building is falling down. A testament to this area. It knows what freedom is. If these red bricks could tell their tale. It would put everyone to sleep. I will sleep tonight in my box. Wishing the world away, hoping for the axis to re-direct. Saving my screams for a different day. What will tomorrow bring? Hours, minutes, seconds. A countdown to the... Let's count backwards. If I threw an apple into a well, would it splash or float? The apple will never forget.
Written by
American
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 12:37 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem