Getting Over Agoraphobia

Here I lay oozing out of my box…
…having fallen from the assembly line.
I feel cool air infecting my box.
My fortress of individuality crushed.
I see other boxes and hear their joyous song as they ride above.
On the floor I still hear those moans of pain.
The moans grow louder.
louder.
Louder.
Louder!
So, I sit inside my box dreaming, regretting and wishing.
Inside my box I feel cold, scared and ashamed.
No longer scared of them…
But ashamed of what I’ve become.
Here I lay oozing from my box having missed my assertion…
…awaiting my destruction.

By Robb A. Kopp
Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

Poem

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Devonshire Avatar
March 1, 2010 at 3:11 PM
This must be very much how an agoraphobic feels, Robb. Very well composed poem! Love, Carolyn
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