The story of Jack (in the box)

Do you see that red, square box?

that innocuous piece of wood?

it’s been my home and my prison

I wouldn’t stay there if I could

 

 

I’ve been squatting in that thing

under a painfully heavy lid

If you opened it and slammed it shut

It might be the meanest thing you did

 

 

Every time the lid is pried open

I pop out like a cork and stare

Even though all you’ll see is a painted smile

You might glimpse the pain, if you care

 

I’ve been doing this for quite long now

There’s never really anything funny 

I don’t know whom to pity more, you or I?

Who is really here, the dummy?

 

This- is sadly, how I live

doomed to scare off all my friends

followed by surprised peals of glee

And then the sordid joke ends

 

People say it’s a cruel game

But that’s  ole jack’s way

he has to cheer em up when they’re sad

Left afterwards on a lonely shelf, to stay

 

There will come a day you know

when there will be no surprise

The lid will open dramatically, to reveal an empty space

No one will greet you in mirthful cries

 

The joke will be on you, visitor

this box will not torture Jack

the springs won’t tether me, then I’ll really bounce

and then never ever, come back

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Published by: Abby

Abha is a law student in her early 20s, an aspiring women and child welfare lawyer, a speaker on child sexual abuse and an advocate for gender equality. She enjoys reading romantic thrillers, running after her wayward Alsatian and practicing Buddhism. She loves home-cooked food, electronic rock from the 80s and videos of soldiers reuniting with their kids/dogs.

Categories Abstract Ideas, PoetryTags, , , , , , 3 Comments

3 thoughts on “The story of Jack (in the box)”

  1. Nice post. I learn something totally new and challenging on sites I stumbleupon on a daily basis. It’s always interesting to read articles from other authors and use something from their websites.

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