Death Box Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Death box

Building is very tall.

Door slides left and right
It's silver; shines bright
In a way is mirror.

She who is closest
Is proud, embarrassed
Depending on her hair
And makeup!

The building has three
Two are dead, not working
The alive is just one.

We in rush
Push and gush
All scared and afraid
This one too may stop.

That means we will hang there
Cannot reach anything anywhere.


Oh damn these elevators
Each of them a death box.