Music Box

my contraption // had it's metal refitted for you

I am

I am not

I am a music box in your lap

I burn to a musical tune

In which words scrape in the metal cylinders

The teeth in my gears are etched with rage

I was not prepared

a violent toy

my contraption had its metal refitted

for you

almost

as if somewhere between the steel needles

and the rusted pins

someone spoke

where notes should’ve rung

---

note: hi