The Red Box

A rumble of thunder
Rain pelting the broken glass
One cold night, no one around
A blazing comet approaching me

The red box slams into the ground
Like a beacon seen for miles around
The sides are smooth; but the edges sharp
Aggressively staring, shouting my name

A stone heart reaching for me
In a boxing ring of blood
The red box punches my soft face hard
And rests in my head, no more brain

A toughened nipple on a cancerous breast
Gives no milk or sexual alure
Only cranberry sauce for this turkey!
For a meal from the prison of needles

The red box swears and spits at me
Cursing my life, my name, my sanity
In the ballet box the result awaits
What will be my last murderous mistake?