I don't like being stuck in this box
The box that destroys the truths I speak and the things I want to be
I don't like this dog
It follows me on white paws
Reminding me of how I am a speck of dust
I don't like this mug
The mug I hold in my hand when I am told to speak that strikes fear in my body like a deer in headlights
You never see it coming
And when I tell you to leave
I don't mean what I say
When I say I'm just tired
I don't mean what I say
When I say I'm not hungry
I don't mean what I say
Please just hold me until my cries cease and we can just lay
Under the stars
Listening to the echo of nature and the calling of love
I don't like these sounds
They remind me of where I cannot go and what I can't obtain
I don't like these lights
They change and move to rhythm with great delicacy
Great ease
But the truths I speak are rough and hurt
My truths aren't fun or good or entertaining
They're just truths
They are unrealistic like perfectly white paws on the feet of a dog
But they are truths
And I don't want to lie
So I'm stepping out of the box
Stepping out till I must say goodbye
YOU ARE READING
A Spark Of Hope
PuisiTHE GESTURE: By George Oppen The question is: how does one hold an apple Who likes apples And how does one handle Filth? The question is How does one hold something In the mind which he intends To grasp and how does the salesman Hold a bauble he int...
