Treasure Island

laura random


Trapped


I'm trapped in a small box
In the darkness
No strength to lift the lid
No way out

The box getting smaller
Every time I struggle
I'm getting smaller
Every time I try

The box is paper-thin
But I still can't break through
Everyone helped
But now it's up to me
Up to me to fight through this
But what they don't know,
Is that it is to late

They left it to long
No energy left to fight
I am trapped in a small box
Never to get out

Submitted: Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Edited: Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Trapped by laura random )

Enter the verification code :

  • Nurain Ali-balogun (9/26/2012 1:23:00 AM)

    You can get out of the box if you really have faith that you will. If you can't push true, maybe you can cut through. All the same, this is good poetry Laura, keep up the good work. (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. 52!, Edward Kofi Louis
  2. Between War And Freedom, Edward Kofi Louis
  3. For the first time, Joni Lenhart
  4. Slowly-so-Slowly,, Aftab Alam
  5. Her Spirit Sings for Him, Maia Padua
  6. I Am Cast To The Sky, Richard Provencher
  7. Sweet Victory, Edward Kofi Louis
  8. Gorgon With Hair Threatening, Margaret Alice Second
  9. Sober Song, Barton Sutter
  10. I Love Your Crazy Bones, Barton Sutter

Poem of the Day

poet Henry Lawson


The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
...... Read complete »

   

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]