Skins

I might as well be a robot for all this metal in me. Sinking into me. Molding to me. Me. In a tiny dark box. Ten years … Eleven. Waiting. Who will open my box? I waited. Waited. Eventually, opening it myself. Freedom? Not so lucky. Life is all about cages. Boxes. I swipe one box for another. Still waiting for someone to open my box and let the light in…