Don't touch me.
Trapped inside a man's body,
I hide.
Shrinking down to waste.
I peek through the slats
on the box.
Wondering how-
What it's like on the outside
:to have that quiet understanding of what I am
:to find the mirroring man.
I cry alone
when I find no escape
from that box.
I see the curious, leering at me,
as if I were a leper in a box.
My hand is like your hand.
Take it and see.
Take it and help me out of
the box.
About the Creator
Barb Dukeman
I have three books published on Amazon if you want to read more. I have shorter pieces (less than 600 words at https://barbdukeman.substack.com/. Subscribe today if you like what you read here or just say Hi.
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