To whom it may concern:
The end is nigh.
The end is near.
Yet that is a lie
Told only through fear.
If it were said that
Once upon a time,
A trinket box would
Hold the world,
It’d be painted as a crime.
Solid strokes
of jittered nerves
that slashed a page,
in a word? Absurd.
Assured in the destruction
Of all that’s contained therein,
Seems like such a fruitless waste…
Yet here we are.
Let’s uncover its secrets,
Let’s uncover its lies,
Let’s prepare for the ugliness,
Wearing a beauty’s disguise.
Or is the box just a box just a box….
Just a box?
Nothing is as it seems
But reason remains to be seen.
It’s obscene.
How can so much
Be held in so little?
Or maybe it’s just an empty
Hard shell of what it used to be…
That also remains to be seen.
To whom it may concern:
No answers can I give you,
The silent auction ended
Behind a darkened window.
Only one action
On this can shed light.
Open it or don’t,
Fight or flight or fright.
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Wonderfully written !
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