We live our lives in boxed up pain
Compartment squared how we survive
And what beyond the cardboard box
To indicate if we’re alive
So pile me up like rotting meat
Compartment number forty nine
The time to gracefully give up
Decay will slip into decline
Escape the trap laid out for me
Compartment empty value change
Horizon stretching to the sky
A step beyond the normal range
So fifty I intend to be 
Without the box and drifting free


Author: thepoetautist

A Gay poet of fifty odd years who is currently living in Cambodia.

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