Shaking Box
Shaking Box
As I sit alone inside this chasm of death,
Where the box shakes and the room bleeds,
I am left with the choice of foe or friend,
For the gun forces me to choose who is filled with greed.
As I look upon my childhood friends,
I can’t help but think,
That the thing that keeps me alive is time…
And the pull of the trigger is slower than upward raindrops.
Force me to choose, volatile fiend!
For I cannot stand to see my fellow being be determined by my answer.
But when the sound is silent,
I try not to be violent,
But the shaking box always worries me…
Copyright © Anonymous And Broken | Year Posted 2020
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