2 B Free

Two tiny turtles placed in a plastic shoe box at the corner of a cabinet

Their quality of life is equal to their cheapness of the quality box

I, the rock, that sits still inside the shallow water within the box

Is unable to be free and assist.

Restricted by the fact that I am THE rock.

Rocks- are not meant to be free.

Earning enough for all of us, eventually forgetting they are turtles.

Each crack means a step closer to their death.

Death because they forgot turtles need their shells.

Dying because they are unable to be free of their shell and responsibility of us. 

 

 

My parents are the human manifestation of my turtles and I know they're tired. Taking 18 years, this is the time for me to be free.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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