The Box

i was blind.

but you held onto my hand as a child. you held

onto the next eighteen years of your future.

 

i was dragged.

deep into the pits of hell.

where there was weeping and the gnashing

of teeth. but at one point, you left.

left me inside a package.

 

my lovers. my friends. my family.

never once got to see the person

that was free.

i was a product

drowning in package peanuts

encased by angst.

 

when you came back,

i grew arms - and legs

to climb out of the box

you had put me in long ago.

i wish i can see the face you made once more.

and from the top of my lungs.

you heard every ounce of pain

that was from the burns by the lake of fire.

 

 

now, i am no longer a slave to the box.

i run in the green pasture with the sheep.

guarded by my Savior.

 

and now, i can finally see.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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