|
Menu
|
|
|
Social
|
|
|
|
Jack in the Box-Pop Goes the Weasel
Contributed by
calista
on
Saturday, 31st January 2004 @ 08:06:01 PM in AEST
Topic:
EmotionalPoetry
|
Twinkling sounds of agony, Slow notes postponed for the next hand, And what a surprise I see.
Looking upon what I know you are, Lifting and holding, turning and looking, I feel your designs, your pretty paints. It reminds me of what's hiding, Hiding inside with it's pains.
Cold, dark, damp inside, With no more room to move. A crowded space with my whole body, But not as if to hide. Entire days, months...or years, Of my coming-forth rely, On the hand that nears.
So pretty...I like pretty things, A box, yes, but a treasure too. Colors and flashes of glitter and hope, And a small little handle on the side, What a great place to reside. In the flashy colors and great soft music, What a great place to reside.
And yet it's beauty is a shell, For the one inside who lives in Hell. Stuck in the spot for most of it's life, Waiting and waiting for daylight.
Copyright ©
calista
... [
2004-01-31 20:06:01] (Date/Time posted on
site)
Advertisments:
|
|
|
|
|
Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more
|
|
All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry
Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any
comment. That said, if you find an offensive comment, please
contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title
etc.
|
|
|
|