The Girl In The Box

Rotted foundations will always break, and dreamers' blood is the price.

There is no way out of this box

She was here from the beginning,

Six walls with no view, and

No eyes in the dark

They, they damned her here

To this black void

Consumed by the soundlessness

Of silent silence

Taken from the land of violet skies

Where celestial shines cascaded

In divine waterfalls colored

By an Autumn dream

Now the midnight clouds

Bind her with cold chains.

Do not dance sweet child,

Be a good girl

Our words, our books

Will guide the path

To the places you want,

To be.

Belt straps on her arms,

Chalkboard scratches

Are the friends here,

The friends

Tainted rivers, she breathes

Streams not her own

And knows it,

She does

 

Little girl smiles,

And the puppeteers rejoice

In songs that thread back
To master-hands; origins

 

Of a twisted symphony
Told in iron strings
By dreamless demons,

Those devils; all

Welcome home, sweet girl

Come back from those lies

Of spring-laid flowers

And a summer’s kiss

Hold the smile, shows her teeth

And the box does open

To a tattered wasteland

Bereft of child

Paradise lost,

The drowned girl waited
With her lips sewn shut,
No eyes in the dark

Those milky orbs shattered

 

Crimson box, rusted black pools

Drip from ears no longer there

“Hello old liars,”
This is my nightmare…

Pandora, Pandora, Pandora,
Pandora all,
look upon your
works

As this is, made

Indeed finely

By you

Why scream when I cannot hear?

Why beg when I cannot speak?

Why cry when I cannot see?

Oh but I can,

Evil that I am fluent

 

Diseased maggots

Mouths festered, cups of parasites

Eating me at birth

 

Take my light,

You greedy souls

 

From its absence, I am harbinger,

Feasting crow covered

In ash painted feathers

 

Flash of darkness

 

The neck is slit

Bathe in the oceans

The oceans of their blood

 

Blanket I love, blanket you stole

 

Mine now, this red rag
Carved from veins

 

Betrayer’s maze

Father I will kill you

And my name will be Joy,

 

Pirouetted grave dance
Twisted sickness this happiness is

Swift death shall not come,

Mother, as the reaper

 

I not am

Scream! Yes, scream!
Your pain sates me

Blood chalk on the walls,

No matter how much the boards are washed they cannot be washed

Of the red,

The red,

Mine.

Crumble, box, crumble,
The wrecking swings

Of torn limbs,

Azrael comes in me

The shadow artist
With the sword-swung brush
Hatred made of scarlet rain

I won’t bury you,
I won’t bury you,

But in the fires

Burn!

Wave to Lucifer

For these chains are but the first

Broken,

And the field of graves will grow corpse by corpse

In healthy numbers of the death bloom

Built by me the builder, filled

With architects’ bones
Tossed to hellhounds

 

Ripping flesh shrieks

Music makes me sway,
And the price is made

Of…

We are all blood
We are all blood

Above the burning box,

Looking down into the ice

The Ninth Circle;

You belong

Smile,

 

Little girl

 

Smile.

Reviews

[Chloe]

The title was what attracted me to this poem, but I was immediately enthralled by the entire piece. This poem gave me chills.

[Hanan96_5]

Oh My what a poem! dark and haunting yet speaks a story. I love it.

[Whoreable]

Wow. This was very intense. You are very talented, this was a very gripping poem, the imagery you used is VERY effective. I personally considered this an attack on society hypocrisy regarding the virtues of women, not sure if you were actually writing about that lol but either way I found it haunting

[TheRaven]

WHOREABLE! That name is straight up amazing. LOL.

I appreciate your extremely kind words. Your interpretation is a valid one, though that's not what I was going for. That could be an element. If I changed it to little boy rather than little girl, the core of what I'm going for would still be here (from my view).

[Bacchus]

This piece brings out my hate.
Are you fing kidding me-
"Do not dance sweet child,
Be a good girl"- how horrible and controlling is this.
That someone would trap this precious one into a hell hole-
in Pandora's Box.

I have a lot of thoughts on this one- but I have to take it in chunks- because of how dark it is.
I'll be back though.

[TheRaven]

Many of my longer poems have been in a crazy rage-fueled hatred haze of late. I just drifted over to that side and bursts of... angry inspiration flew on out. Like I opened my own Pandora's Box of unfiltered speech. Take your time with your thoughts, I had to be patient while writing this. Until about the halfway point, once I broke the box open (and broke the structure) I just kind of let it all out.

[Bacchus]

So yeah- all this Divine Comedy stuff throughout all your writing.
Brings your readers to this hellish place.
I hope you have a Beatrice to bring you out of it all!

Interesting how you get to the 9th circle- the ice and all. Tearing apart the limbs and everything.
I don't do maggots- never have, since a scene in The Lost Boys.

I'm not sure about the ending- is she free?
it's almost creepy.
Someone who has been trapped in hell that long- are they monsters too?
Again- more questions than answers for me.
But it keeps bringing me back.

[TheRaven]

THE LOST BOYS!

That's one of my favorite 80s movies ever. "You missed, suckah!"
read moreTHE LOST BOYS!

That's one of my favorite 80s movies ever. "You missed, suckah!"

As for the ending, it's up to interpretation. Though, I'm leaning more to your question there. She is free, and her rage-fueled vengeance is so engrained at this point due to being boxed up for so long... That she has become a monster as well. A monster that is the manifestation of restricting the creativity of children. I'm not fond of schools (in the way things are run), as you might be able to tell.

[Bacchus]

Bummer- some reason this response isn't letting me see the whole thing.

[TheRaven]

Obnoxious! Alright, I think what I said is that it ends with her free. Out of the box. But, after so long in that box and knowing that she was taking in ideas that aren't her own that the frustration ate her up. When the box was opened it was bereft of child, the innocence is gone. Just a black hole of anger and hate that has been unleashed. Her becoming a monster is a consequence of restricted thinking. You might be able to tell that I hate schools (mostly the way they are currently run). And overly strict parents. Maybe that's me being too mean to them, but if this poem tells you anything it's that I think it's super detrimental.

[Fahmida Mehreen]

Loved more as I scrolled down.

[TheRaven]

Glad you enjoyed!

[gabrielle]

I enjoyed reading this dark piece. It made me think that when we are sheltered all our life-- protected by our parents from all the nastiness of the world, the moment we step out, we become easy target for those who have evil intents. Your reference to DAnte's Inferno is riveting. :)

[TheRaven]

Was skimming through a bit of Dante again and I just couldn't help myself, lol. I'm happy you liked it, and I enjoy your interpretation of my work.