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The Box
February 8, 2016
I am empty, singular
Surrounded by an abandoned space.
I am often moved
From place to place.
My use is always changing
Yet it always stays the same,
And when something goes wrong
I am the first one that is blamed.
My heart I have left open
For so long, I am afraid
That one day contraband
Will compromise me.
I was tossed to the curb
A few years ago,
But now I am renewed.
I was taken in after
All of the lost time.
Now I have the
Blonde, the car, the
House and the clothes.
This is my purpose,
Now I am proud
Of myself.
© Tracy C., Westport, CT
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