Box

Box

By Robert C Price

 

I’m ill-fitted

not one size fits

all type

 

I’m odd shaped

odd in thought

not of this world

 

Never one to adapt

more or less coalesce

mannequin ways

don’t appeal

 

I think clearly

boxes can’t hold me

A comet screaming

at the universe

 

Cowards give me

side glances asking

me why I’m not like

the others

 

I’m not horizontal

or vertical I’m more

askew like a fedora

tilted to the side

 

I don’t pretend to be anyone

except the person in the mirror

living outside the cube

too big to fit in confine spaces

 

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