deepundergroundpoetry.com
Broken Box
Have you ever hung in a pile of trash
Have you ever slept next to your Mother’s ash
Or died in a room that haunts
Whilst terrorised by such unkempt thoughts
I have lived in hollows bare
And empty shells of past
Piggy-backed on those who care
To make any sordid lie last
There is no line nor word-
No syllable or rhyme,
That can ever expunge
my rancid hate and crime
Locked in these walls
Field and death heads combine
I always wish for erasure
A life led half held and divine
My sister will never know me
Nor will my brothers here
I saw the grave at age thirteen
I saw the pain in us, the fear
Metal stepladders, I'm here-
You can take me to my fate
These greens, this field, this foe
Will end my pain and suffering-
equate.
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