Oppression

My life in a box

 

 

Boxes of books

my treasures, my escape

all loved, to go on the scrapheap

like me, I'm past my 'best before'.

Many tears      self recrimination

my life is packed in boxes

           not many just a few.

Send them interstate

drop them at the Sallies

throw them away

              like me.

Just me and mine

in a box, labeled ... fragile.

 

Money is no object

the object is no money.

Another box, another label

head hangs low,

don't meet their eyes

don't speak, melt into the universe

            wish I wasn't here.

I see you cringe and look away,

you are ashamed of me.

But I don't owe any explanations

or apologies, I hurt too.

Anger grows

head smaps up, eyes blaze

no more boxes

no more labels

I walk my own path.

Reviews

[Melissa]

Wow to delve into the lines and find the deeper meaning would take someone on a journey of life I think. Somehow it seems that someone is perhaps forced to project his/herself by the standards of another, until that day they decide to step up and take back their life and live how they want to live.

Very deep, emotionally, and physically I think. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.