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Showing posts from May, 2017

The Glass Box

It’s big, it’s shiny It’s made of glass Embellished with wood, Stone and brass.
It was built to be the shiniest, Biggest, loudest, costliest. So grand in show, The talk of the town Glossy and gleaming Cream and brown.
Shiny fat balls roll inside the box They roll and rumble Mumble and grumble. And all fall over one another, in a tumble.
They clash and collide, Move close and grow wide Ruckus they make Care they fake.
The glass box shakes With tension and pressure Threatening to explode Beyond repairable measure.
The sheen of the glass box is slowly fading As is the colour of the balls inside Scratch marks are left on the glass walls And cracks are growing deep and wide.
It is all there is to the glass box – Standing in pride Delusional of its own delicacy A shining symbol of hypocrisy.
A madhouse of rusted balls Running helter-skelter The glass box is now a source of misery Instead of being a shelter.
It’s big, it’s shiny It’s made of glass
Who knows how long it’s going to last.