Tin Can Crushed

The walls close in on us,
more and more,
as we attempt to weed out
every hurt
from our existence.


There is no room
small enough
to prevent pain, though.
we are tin can crushed


by the sum weight and force
of all that
we have removed. The density
of which creates a far
more devastating result


then the sum of it's parts.

We get tin can crushed.


The scrape on the knee,
the bump in the dark,
the uncomfortable truths
and the words that hurt;
each, beatable
on their own
but, pulling in
these four walls
to hide beyond them
- well, being crushed is inevitable.

(You get tin can crushed.)

Imprison them outside
of acceptable,
or at least tolerable
and they don't even have to revolt.
The walls closed in on your command,
you were crushed by your own hand.
The folk tale's sum and it's heart:
You got tin can crushed.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Due to inspiration from Dalton's "Words Hurt".



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allets's picture


Ready for recycling one more time. I revise me every 5 years - short attention span - to renew brain functions. Time to start a press and publish poets, if legs work out spat with back - and world re-opens. Be fun!

Tin Can Uncrushed like Prometheus, the art giver, half blind fire thief.





lyrycsyntyme's picture

I imagine your 5 year plans

I imagine your 5 year plans work out better than they have for government. We all need to seek decompression in this world.


As for publishing - that would be a fun project to see put together. I'm all for it.