I look around and stare <br />at box i am imprisoned <br />from within... <br />its dark <br />its cold <br />i hear a sound <br />what for, i have no reason <br />to be in this box <br />where it is damp <br />they must think i am dead <br />for i hear whispers <br />walking and cries <br />and so many tears a' shed <br />why doesn't my family take one last look <br />open and see inside <br />for maybe then they could realize <br />that i am still alive.<br /><br />Sally Nesmith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/alive-4/
