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The Box

.

The box
remains
Now sold
stolen by one
sibling
gutted
restyled
But the pain still
wafts
like the stink
of abuse
the rotting
dysfunction
eight people
endured
or not
in a
cracker box
twenty
by thirty
This was a shelter
from weather
a place to sleep
and suffer
to scream
and hate
Love was a word
never heard
A prison
a home
never known
Eight people
not
family
like rats
we escaped
one
by one
boiling in
the juices
of our past

""

Kittery 03904 United States
  • The Box

About the creator

Nelson Linscott

Maine born and raised, a product of the 1960's, liberal thinker, writer, photographer, poet, book collector, fountain pen enthusiast, amateur historian, reader, Beat Generation Follower, cancer...