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When I was a toddler, I lived in a glass cube.
Pressed to a transparent face.
I watched rays of light reflect off the six surfaces.
And each molecule of light atomized in front of me.
By the time I reached my teenager years, the cube seemed
evanescent.
It had broken and shattered.
And often, shards of glass would blast my way.
It would remind me how
ephemeral my time in the glass cube was.
When I lived in the glass cube, I had an outsider’s view.
I saw the crumpled world through a lens.
Now I am part of that world.
No lens.
But I am still an oddity.
Because I had a glass cube.



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MckayThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
May 1 at 2:40 pm
To be honest, I'm not sure that this made sense to me—with a few exceptions here and there. But who ever said poetry had to make sense in order for it to be liked or art, at least pre-mature art. The point of view of the speaker is what drew me in. We see this person in a glass cube. And at the same time, we the world as we're pulled inside the glass cube. It's two views of humanity in one. Your wording combined with your imagery create a stunning poem. 5/5
 
htap said...
Apr. 29 at 6:21 am
I love this
 
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