Cardboard crafted by the creed of many,
the box within, my limbs contort to fit.
Bruised and bloody, the flesh reminisces
of a time in history that never existed.
Silence shoved into polystyrene peanuts,
suffocates protest as the tape seals shut.
Exhibit A is now ready for display,
in the Museum of Boxes, awaiting your gaze.
The looking glass draws attention first,
with not a single reflection to greet you back.
An empty stare at an empty pane,
“Are you the one that sealed his fate?”
The lingering question you not once spoke,
reveals the eyes you wear may never work.