Stocked, locked, inside a barrel.
And knocked down?
is rolled over,
The rattled thuds and tears within are something horrible.
The hate from watching-eyes are unfathomable-- unmentionable.
they are not ingnorable.
Made of wood, the cylinder chest holds nothing considered keeping.
All cost is kept inside the unrest of a sad soul, shaken, weeping.
Swept like trash,
and stared at,
this coffin's kicked away.
Into a river,
to the side of town,
to sink or be swept away.
The bouncing is replaced by bobbing.
And all laughing, by lapping waves.
The context is completely different,
'cept the sense of a certain pain.
The motion creates a sickness,
the rapids are picking up,
the commotion around the closed crate... hints
("Did I make it?" is wondered.
"Did a miracle stop the fall?
Did someone decide to save me?
Did an angel answer my call?")
The container is off (of) the victim.
The restraining covers are no longer a cage.
The fast plunge is remembered.
So... "Where is 'here' at this stage?"
With movement obviously missing,
aside from the questions rising,
Eyes open to check the location.
A light is seen: it's blinding.