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The Man in the Box

February 15, 2013

by Sean Michael, June 5, 2012

The timeless clock ticks its hopeless taunt,
The phantom shadows dance across the wall.
I hear the voice of nagging loss:
The angels whisper sorrow;
The demons scream their bloody cry!
Tossing and turning, restless,
Searching for hope’s vestige,
The path is swept clean.

I open my eyes,
But can’t seem to awaken from this dream.
The cold hard concrete,
The steel.
The little box in which I live.
I can’t wake up!
It’s a nightmare,
It has to be!
The lie told with repetition my first year in prison.

I’m sorry.
I caused so much hurt.
And loss.
I wish I could take it all away,
Erase that fateful day.
But it is too late for the man in the box.

And I will always be in debt,
For great was the cost,
This descent and return to the state–
Shuffled through as a boy,
Deep in the dark recesses I became a man,
Where it’s so damn hard to smile and feel that joy.

King Midas had the touch that turned to gold,
Why must my hands always destroy?

My pen be my messenger,
And I ask not for pity or a sympathetic ear.
Just someone to listen,
To hear.
The echo in the emptiness,
The whispered shouts.
That’s the man in the box.


Posted to OpenLinkNight at dVerse Poet’s Pub

From → Poetry

  1. intense…would be hard to face life in the box….and the loss…all for what…and then having to live with the regret as well for what you did in getting there…being so disconnected from others would be tough for me…someone to listen indeed…

    thanks for sharing with us at dverse


  2. that’s moving write— the struggle of being caught in a box– the struggle of not being able to do what he wants to do and doing things he doesn’t ….King Midas had the touch that turned to gold…is a great image… reminded me of marie durand who, even if she was locked up in that tower still was more free than many who are able to travel anywhere they want to


  3. Powerful write here. Thanks for sharing it.


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