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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)

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