The Small Gray Box
This morning
the gray box's
pattern of lights
is all wrong.
The small box
is sick.
Its head
has bad things
in it.
The strong metal
can't help with
the bad things.
We took
the small gray box
to the apple people.
They couldn't help.
👁 7💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
Comments are closed for this poem.