Pantomime-in-a-Box
By Mariah, age 15, Minnesota
I tightly clutch onto lace curtain,
Refuse to end up 6 feet below,
Patch of Kentucky bluegrass,
Keeping me safe from rain that seeps
Into earthen cracks above my cardboard box.
My smile,
Eroded with the compost,
Made the grass green,
The days short and sweet.
The air has evaporated,
I gasp for oxygen.
Asphyxiated by reality,
Comforted by illusions.
Ears cannot hear my cries for help,
As I scratch on the box,
My name
I cannot remember.
I remain homeless,
Non-existent,
Guilty,
Till I finally decompose.
Forever exiled and confined to this place,
Not even God can save my soul,
He mocks my attempts
To break the latch.
